Your Heart Outside Your Body
by lls-mutant
Summary: For the Fiftieth Hunger Games, the Capitol required each District to send twice the number of tributes- two boys and two girls. For the boys, District 8 sent Finn Hudson and Kurt Hummel.
1. The Reaping

**Chapter 1: The Reaping**

"Kurt, how long does it take to tie boots?" Finn demanded irritably.

His stepbrother looked up from the intricate process with a glare. "Long enough, Finn," he snapped, and then went back to lacing them up. They were leather, black and worn and there was a rough patch at the top of one. Rejects from the factory that Kurt had spent every last penny he had on and was inordinately proud of.

Finn sat on his creaky, sagging bed and watched his stepbrother finish his preparations. He'd initially felt odd about sharing a tiny room with Kurt, but there hadn't been a choice- it was that or nothing. So he'd gotten used to it. They'd both gotten used to it. And now, Finn just hoped they'd still be sharing a room at the end of the day.

"You nervous?" he asked, his own knee jerking up and down.

Kurt glared at him again, but softened. "I try to keep reminding myself of how many potential Tributes are in District 8," he said. "It's not likely that either of us will be chosen."

"I know." Finn frowned, looking around the room. Not that there was much to look _at_. The walls and the floor were bare, although there were tattered curtains in the window and a small, spotted mirror in the corner. "How many times is your name in the reaping ball?"

"Fourteen. You?"

"Twenty-one."

Kurt shuddered. "Hundreds of us," he said. "And lots of people have their names in that many times or more. It's not going to be one of us."

Finn nodded. "It's not going to be one of us." Kurt made a face that was supposed to be a smile, and Finn tried to smile back. It was probably true, but it was still hard to believe it.

***

The 'kitchen' of the Hudson-Hummel apartment was a corner of the big room. A small stove sat in one corner, and an ice box next to it. It was never kept all that full, because electricity was sporadic at best. Which was fine in the winter, when _heat_ was sporadic at best and food was slow to spoil. In the summer, however, it was not so good. There was an old sink that spouted rusty water, and an almost microscopic countertop. The smell of food permeated the entire apartment when anyone attempted to cook.

Carole peered at the oatmeal in the pot, debating whether she should add the corn syrup now or wait for the evening meal, when they could celebrate that neither of the boys had been chosen in the Reaping. Reaping days were supposed to be "special." That was always bullshit and everyone knew it, but this Reaping was worse than any of the ones that had come previously. This was the first Reaping where Carole had two sons to worry about, not just one.

She decided to wait, and put the corn syrup back in the cabinet. Then she dished out the bland porridge into four bowls and set them on the table.

The table was easily Carole's favorite object in the entire apartment. It was worn and scratched, but the wood was good and the carving was well done. It had been a wedding gift when she and Burt had gotten married nine months ago, a gift from all the residents of the tenement they now lived in. It must have cost a small fortune. It was big enough for all four of them to sit comfortably at, and to Carole, it was the outward symbol of the family they'd put together.

"Smells good," Burt said, coming in from their room and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"No it doesn't." She leaned back into his embrace. "But it will have to do. We'll save the better stuff for when they're home."

"Sounds good." He squeezed her. "They _will_ be home tonight."

She heard the uncertainty she felt echoed in his voice. "I think I'd be less scared if it wasn't a Quarter Quell. Are they going to make the District vote on tributes again?"

Burt shuddered. "I hope not. If so, Kurt…."

Kurt. Superior, snobbish, awkward, _gay_ Kurt. He was a wonderful kid and Carole loved him like he was her natural born son, but the truth was Kurt was not popular in District 8. She squeezed Burt's hand. "They won't send him," she said. "They'll send someone with a better chance of winning. A winner means so much more for us all."

"Right." Burt took a deep breath and pulled away. "Just a few more hours and it will all be over."

Carole nodded. "Just a few more hours and we'll _know_."

***

The square was filling up fast as Kurt and Finn made their way in with the rest of their class. It was strange. Last year, Kurt had been standing next to Finn as well- Hudson and Hummel were about as close alphabetically as you could get, and he'd wished he could reach out and even _touch_ Finn, just for a little bit of comfort. But today, as they lined up, Finn grabbed _his_ hand. Just a quick squeeze, but it was something.

"It's going to be all right," Kurt whispered, sounding a lot more confident than he felt.

The square was large. The tall buildings around it were nicer than the one they lived in, which was ten blocks away. That one was decrepit, with windows missing glass, broken bricks, and cracked plumbing. The ones here were in better repair and even painted. If Kurt couldn't make it to the Capitol one day, at least he could make it _here_, to these buildings, where managers and officials and foremen lived. And designers. If he couldn't be so well known to be a stylist for the Hunger Games, then he could be a designer for the clothing that came out of District 8 and went to other Districts. It wouldn't be much, but it would be something.

In front of the crowd was a platform. On it was the mayor of District 8, the escort who chaperoned and shepherded the chosen tributes, and the three previous victors from District 8. The platform was decorated with festoons of fabric and flowers, and behind it were giant television screens to make viewing easier for those further back. In the center of the platform were two huge glass balls – the reaping balls. The kids stood in lines in the squares, the adults crowded around the outsides.

The clock began to strike two.

The square fell silent. Next to him, Kurt saw Finn's throat work as he swallowed hard, and he tried to deny the butterflies in his own stomach. This year and next year, that was all they had to get through. And then they would be free- well, as free as anyone in Panem was. Free to make whatever life they could, as long as it fit into the roles of District 8.

The mayor, a short woman with gray hair, began to read the required history of Panem. Kurt tried to tune it out and look around at the other faces, watch other reactions. Anything to keep his mind off the horrible next few minutes. It didn't really work.

"It is both a time for repentance and thanks," the mayor intoned.

Everyone straightened up. Those were the words that meant the speech was coming to an end. Kurt took a deep breath and straightened his coat.

"Happy Hunger Games." The escort stepped forward. He was a big man named Julius Ramsey, who wore dark glasses and a dark suit, and unlike most Capitol residents, his head was shaved bald. "May the odds be ever in your favor. Before we begin, there is an announcement from President Snow."

Everyone's attention turned to the television screens mounted in the square, and President Snow came on. "Good afternoon, and Happy Hunger Games," Snow said with an oily smile. "This year is the fiftieth Hunger Games. As it is a special year, it will be honored in a special way. On the twenty-fifth anniversary as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every district was made to hold an election and vote on the tributes who would represent it.

"Now we honor our second Quarter Quell. As a reminder that two rebels died for every Capitol citizen, the Capitol requires each district to send twice as many tributes." There was a murmur of shock and outrage, but it died as Julius Ramsey glared at the crowd, and as the Peacekeepers rattled their guns.

"May the odds be ever in your favor," Snow said, and the screens flicked off.

Twice as many tributes. Kurt swallowed. _The odds aren't that much worse. We can still… no. Don't think about it._

Julius Ramsey reached into a reaping ball. "Let's start with the ladies."

The ladies. As terrible as it was to say, there were only six girls that Kurt cared about- the girls of New Directions. _Anyone else,_ he thought. _Anyone else but them._

He was in luck. The first girl called was Celia Brown. She was twelve or thirteen, no older, and Kurt didn't know her. In fact, she wasn't even in this square, but in another one across the district. He saw her reaction on the giant screens. She was crying. He wanted to feel terrible, but all he could think was that it wasn't Mercedes or Rachel or Quinn or Brittany or Santana or Tina. All he could feel was relief. And when the second girl's name was called - Emily Halverson - and it was a big eighteen-year-old girl that he only knew by sight, the air rushed out of his lungs and his shoulders relaxed. Around him, he could hear the girls' responses; sighs, whispers, tears of relief.

"And now the boys," Julius said, and Kurt's stomach knotted again. Julius pulled a slip out and unfolded it. "Finn Hudson."

_NO._

Next to him, Finn stiffened and his eyes opened wide. "He didn't say me, did he?" Finn asked desperately, not looking at anyone. "He couldn't have said me."

"He said you," Puck said, from behind Finn. His eyes were dark and he looked murderous. Furious. He reached out and squeezed Finn's shoulder tightly.

Finn looked around desperately, and then his eyes locked with Kurt's. "Kurt…."

Kurt wanted to say something, but a lump had formed in his throat. It was so big that it cut off the air and he couldn't speak. He could barely hear. All of the square was gone, and for one moment everything focused down to the boy standing in front of him. Finn Hudson had been in his life for so long in one way or the other- been in his _heart_ for so long in one way or another- that Kurt couldn't even process it.

"Come on, Finn," Julius called. "Get up here." It sounded far more like a threat than an invitation.

With one last desperate look at his friends and his stepbrother, Finn made his way to the platform. He was tall, the tallest person up there when he climbed the stairs. But he looked so young. And somewhere in that crowd, Carole was watching. Kurt kept his eyes forward, because he couldn't bear to accidentally see her. He was so determinedly not looking at anything that he almost missed Julius reaching into the reaping ball a second time.

"Our second tribute will be," there was a brief pause as Julius read the paper, "Kurt Hummel."

If Finn's name had been a punch in the gut, his own was like a bright light had been shined down on him, and he was caught. Kurt's eyes flared open, and he couldn't move. He was literally frozen for a long moment, and then his eyes locked on Finn's again. And looking at Finn, Kurt knew exactly how his own face had looked when Finn's name had been called.

He didn't want to go. Of course he didn't. The Hunger Games were sure death for someone like him, for someone like Finn. They weren't going to play in the Games- they were going to _die_. He wanted to scream, to run, to fight. But there was no choice. He worked through the crowd and took his spot next to Finn. All those faces looking back at him, all those Peacekeepers standing there that would shoot not him, but into the crowd if he tried to run. That had happened three years ago. Kurt stood next to Finn on the platform, his body frozen in fear.

Julius Ramsey turned back to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I give you the District 8 tributes for the Fiftieth Hunger Games!"

***

Sue looked up at the screens, watching the faces of the four tributes being shown. Four kids. Four damn kids doomed to die this year. All four of them looked scared out of the freaking minds. If they had minds, which after twenty-eight years of mentoring tributes and twenty years of teaching at the school, was something Sue Sylvester tended to doubt.

The girls were hopeless. The little ones never lasted long, and Celia was still crying. The older girl was one Sue knew vaguely from the school. Mean, which would help her, but also stupid, which was a huge liability. The boys weren't much better. Dreamers, part of that pathetic glee club. Like there was anything in Panem to be gleeful about. They wouldn't last two minutes in the arena.

But then, two minutes was longer than the girls were going to last.

As the Peacekeepers hustled the tributes off the stage, Sue leaned over to her fellow victors. There were two: Woof, a man in his sixties who had won the thirteenth Hunger Games, and Grace, a woman in her fifties, who had taken the twenty-second Games. Both of them looked tired and miserable. "All right. How are we going to do this thing?" Sue asked.

"What do you mean?" Woof asked.

"What do you think, genius?" Sue asked. "There are four of them and three of us. Who gets two?"

"I don't care," Grace said glumly. "It's always the same."

"I'll take the little one," Woof offered. "And talk to Shine from District 1 when we get to the Capitol."

Sue nodded. "You want the other girl?" she asked Grace. "I'll take both boys."

Grace shrugged. "Whatever."

Sue took that as a promise and turned to watch her two new charges leaving the stage. They were walking close to each other, stiff and distant, but their hands brushing. She vaguely remembered hearing that these two wastes of brain cells were brothers.

Well, that was something to work with. It wasn't much, but it was at least something.

***

How did you say goodbye to your own child?

Behind that door, Kurt was waiting. Burt didn't have long. Not nearly long enough. His hands shook and he knew he was going to cry, but he had to hold it together. This was the last time his child was going to see him. Most likely, anyway.

When he opened the door to the small waiting room, he nearly lost it. Kurt turned around, his eyes red as he took a breath and squared his shoulders. "Dad…"

"Kurt." Burt crossed the room in three swift steps and pulled his son into his arms.

They didn't have long- it could be measured in minutes. But for that entire time, Burt wasn't going to let his son go.

***

"I'm sorry." That was the first thing Finn said when his mother came into the official room that he was waiting in. "Mom, I'm so sorry."

His mother swallowed back tears. "Finn, honey. It's not your fault."

"I know. I know it's not, but… I feel like…" Finn wanted to kick the chair but instead settled for shoving his hands deeper into his pockets in frustration. "I'm letting you down."

"You're not."

"But if I don't win-"

"Finn, let's get something straight right now." His mom took his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. "You're not going to let me down. Losing you… that's not your fault. No matter what happens in that arena. Okay? _This isn't your fault._"

But it was. He felt like he'd never protected her at any time in his life, even when he was old enough to be able to. Sure, he'd signed up for the tessarae, but that seemed like such a small thing to do at the time, because he'd never be picked for the Hunger Games. There were so many kids and so many slips, one more wouldn't matter.

One more had mattered.

"Finn…" His mom was trying not to cry. Finn had to do the same, or he knew she'd lose it. "In the arena. Be careful. I know that… I know it's not…."

"It's okay, Mom," Finn said. "I'll be careful. I'll… I'll do what I can." He swallowed. "And I'll look out for Kurt, as best I can."

His mom smiled a little. "Don't fight with your brother," she said.

"I won't." Oh, no. He was going to be fighting _Kurt._ Well, not really. There were forty-six other tributes, too. It wouldn't come down to Kurt and him alone. No way. "I'll look out for him, okay? We'll do what we can to stick together."

"Okay." She nodded, and reached up to pat his cheek again. "Okay. Oh, Finn…" She broke down completely, and Finn held her as they both cried.

***

Not everyone in New Directions got to say goodbye.

They let Puck see Finn. "Take care of my parents," Finn begged. "_Please._"

"You know I will." They both were trying to pretend they weren't crying, and parted with a last fist bump.

They let Mercedes see Kurt. "I'm just worried about Carole and my dad," Kurt told her. "My dad's heart can't take this."

"We'll take care of them," Mercedes said. "I promise." Neither of them even thought to pretend they weren't crying as they hugged each other goodbye.

They let Will Schuester see them both. He'd done this before, sending other students off to their deaths. He always felt helpless, because what could he say? _Kick butt_? _Come home_? _You'll do great_? Not only were those lies, but what they really meant was _kill everyone and come back to us._ Maybe he could say that in a regular year, but not this year. But then, there was nothing else.

"Good luck," he told them both, aware of how inadequate it truly was.

The group wasn't all allowed in for personal good-byes, but the entirety of New Directions stood on the train platform, waiting for the tributes to arrive. The girls game out first, filmed by camera crews and escorted by Peacekeepers, looking far more like the prisoners they were than the honored competitors everyone was supposed to pretend they were being.

Kurt and Finn came out together, walking side by side and not looking at each other. Finn had his arms crossed over his body like he could just huddle up and be miserable inside himself, Kurt had his head up and his shoulders back and was pretending his eyes and nose weren't red from crying. Burt and Carole stood on the edge of the platform, still as statues, his arm around her shoulders.

The song started in soft and slow. No instrumentals, of course- just voices. Simple melodies, simple harmonies, the solo being passed from one member to another line by line. Kurt and Finn stopped, and at a frantic gesture from the camera crews, the Peacekeepers backed off enough to let them. It was a funeral song, no two ways about it. But then, this was a funeral, really, and they all knew it. Before the last note even faded, the Peacekeepers were hustling them onto the train. The whistle blew and the train lurched into life, and without any more ceremony or any more goodbyes, they were gone.

Burt and Carole stood on the platform until everyone had left, holding on to each other.


	2. The Capitol

The sound of the wheels on the train track was louder than Finn had thought it would be. He stood inside the car, not moving from his spot as the train lurched into motion.

"Finn. Go in," Kurt ordered. "We're already on the train. Not moving isn't going to change that."

Awareness jolted back to him. "Right. Sorry." Not moving hadn't been any sort of protest. Just a reaction. He moved into the car, Kurt on his heels.

The parlor car was nice. A lot nicer than their apartment and worlds nicer than the room Finn had shared with his mother before she'd married Burt Hummel. The carpet was thick under their feet and the furniture was plush with deep red fabric and dark, polished wood. Kurt reached out a hand and touched a chair reverently, shivering as his fingers trailed over the soft velvet. Outside a huge plate glass window, District 8 rushed by them.

"Finn. Kurt. Which one is which?"

Julius Ramsey's voice was dark and deep, and it commanded an answer almost immediately. Something in Finn responded to that whether he wanted to or not. "I'm Finn."

Julius nodded and made a note on his pad. "And you two are… brothers?"

"Stepbrothers," Finn answered. "His dad married my mom nine months ago."

"I see. And your other natural parents?"

"My dad died in an accident at the cotton mill when I was a baby," Finn said.

"My mother starved to death when I was eight." Kurt's voice was cold.

Julius looked up. "No she didn't," he said. "She died of pneumonia."

"You weren't there. I was. She died of starvation."

"She died of pnuemonia." It was a command. "Remember that I am in a position to make what's left of your life _very_ uncomfortable for you." Kurt looked mutinous, but he didn't argue. Finn was glad of that. "Are you two close?"

"Huh?"

"I dislike having to repeat myself," Julius said. "Are you two close?"

"Oh! Um, yeah. I guess." Finn looked at Kurt and shrugged. "We've known each other for a few years and all, and we were friends in glee and everything." He figured it was best to leave out some of the other stuff.

"That's something, at any rate. Not much, but something." The parlor door opened, and Julius looked over his shoulder. "This is your mentor, Sue Sylvester."

"Has anyone ever told you that the reflection off your head could blind people as far away as District 12?" Sue asked Julius. "Seriously. It's positively mesmerizing. I'm convinced you use furniture polish on it."

Julius frowned. "Right. I'm going to go check on the girls. Good luck." He left the compartment.

"Well now, isn't this nice?" Sue said, arms crossed, surveying Finn and Kurt. "All nice and cozy and personal, just the three of us. Why don't you have a seat?"

Finn sat down tentatively in one of the chairs. When it didn't explode or something, he sat back. It was comfortable, and he hadn't realized until he sat how hard his legs were shaking. After a deliberate pause, Kurt did the same.

Sue circled them, studying them like a vulture eyeing up a dying animal. "All right. Let's talk. Do you two have anything that might be useful at all?"

"Um…"

"Okay, I'll take that as a no from you, Lurch. What about you, Ladyface?"

"I have no idea. I've never killed a person before in my life," Kurt answered.

"You think any of these other poor bastards have?" Sue demanded, and then frowned. "Well, maybe some of the Careers have. But that's not all I'm talking about. Can either of you use a weapon?" They both shook their heads. "Hunt?" Another no. "Do you know the first thing about surviving in the wilderness?"

"Don't wipe with poison ivy?" Finn asked, trying to inject a little humor into a situation that was looking more and more dire with every word their mentor spoke.

Sue didn't laugh, although Kurt cracked a smile. That caught her interest. "You think he's funny." It wasn't a question.

Kurt shrugged and turned a little red. "He can be."

"And you?" Sue asked. "You get along with Kurt?"

"Well, yeah. He's my brother now, and he's…."

"He's what?" Sue asked, her expression sharpening.

Finn shrugged. "He's got guts," he said, thinking of all the times Kurt had stood up to people in their school. "And he's got goals."

Sue nodded. "And what about you?" she asked, whirling on Kurt. "Is this a mutual adoration society or do you just revel in the admiration of lesser beings?"

"Normally I'd say the second, but I do lo- I do like Finn."

_Love_. Finn wasn't sure if he should act like he'd heard that or not. Kurt was staring straight ahead, pointedly not looking at him.

"Hmmm." Sue drummed her fingers. "Let me break it down for you, boys. The chances of either one of you getting out of that arena alive are slim to none. They'd be a little better in a normal year, but with the field of tributes being extended, between the two of you you've got a fraction of a chance of getting out. The way I see it, you two have got one option.

"You're not that strong. You're not that fast. Hell, you're not even particularly smart, not when it comes to what you're going to need to know in the arena. But you two have got something the others don't have, and that's a built in alliance. You trust each other. That's gives you two things: one, someone to work with, and two, a pre-made story line that I can work with to get you sponsors. The fact that you two are brothers is your only hope."

"But only one of us can win," Kurt said. "That means-"

"The only way that means anything," Sue interrupted, "is if it comes down to the two of you and no one else. You think that's going to happen?"

"It could," Finn said.

"I'll ask you that again after you've seen the other tributes. It's not going to happen. If you work together, you might be able to get one of you home to your parents. That's the best I can offer you right now. But I guarantee you that if you two split up, you'll be dead the first day of the Games. Both of you."

Finn shrugged. As far as things they could be asked to do, allying with Kurt was a pretty easy one. "Okay," he said, shrugging.

"I could think of worse things," Kurt agreed.

"Well, good. I'm glad we had this talk." Sue slapped her hands down on the arms of her chair. "Now get out of here while I plan strategy."

They obeyed, heading deeper in the train and down a short hall. They found two doors, one marked with _Kurt_ and the other with _Finn._ "Guess these are our rooms," Kurt said.

Finn stared at his door. "I've never had a room to myself before."

"A little bit off luxury before we shuffle off the mortal coil."

"Don't pretend you of all people aren't enjoying it."

"I'd enjoy it more if I wasn't about to be butchered," Kurt said sarcastically. "Although I'm sure the cattle don't get fancy trains and velvet chairs before they're slaughtered."

"Nice," Finn said, just as sarcastically. He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. "Kurt? About us working together. Do you think it's a good idea?"

"I think it's the only idea," Kurt said. "Do you think we have a chance otherwise?"

"No. I don't even think we have a chance together. There's forty-six other kids."

Kurt pressed his lips together. "I know."

"So we'll do this together?" Finn held out his hand.

Kurt took it. "Together."

***

It wasn't quite hopeless. Almost hopeless, but not completely.

Sue had seen the two boys around school. Finn wasn't anything special academically and was headed for the mills or the factories, that much was obvious. He was tall though, and probably fairly strong. Athletically inclined, although not especially coordinated. Not that that mattered- he didn't have time to learn anything fancy. But his strength probably wasn't going to be enough.

Kurt wasn't going to have that same physical strength, although at least he wasn't a twelve-year-old whelp. Kurt's advantage was going to be his brain. But brains weren't enough… there had to be a willingness to do what your brain told you, too. You couldn't win the Hunger Games by being nice, that was for sure. He probably had the brains, but he didn't necessarily have the steel.

The idea of them teaming up was the best she could do. With this many tributes, gifts from sponsors were going to be even harder to get. If they made an alliance early, they could share whatever she managed to wrangle them. It would help, but not enough. Because in the end, they couldn't both live. If one was going to get out, she'd have to put all her support behind that boy. In the end, she was going to have to make a choice.

***

Even though the shades were drawn, the sun seeped through and woke Kurt up. He groaned, turning over on the bed. The mattress didn't sag under his weight and no springs squealed when he dared to move. The sheets were soft like nothing he'd ever known, and the comforter was plush and warm. He wished he didn't have to get up.

Then he remembered where he was and what was happening today, and he was torn between getting up immediately and hiding under the covers and never, _ever_ coming out.

His stomach rumbled, and remembering the meal they'd been served last night, he got out of bed. He stepped into the bathroom- tiny, he supposed, but still infinitely nicer than the one at home- and took a shower. They had a shower at home, a faucet set above their heads that had hot water either between five and six in the morning or eight and nine at night. It was a mild luxury. But this shower, with the spray of warm water and the richly scented soap, made Kurt realize just how primitive his bathroom at home really was.

Then there were the clothes that were in the drawers. Kurt liked to think he understood fashion and clothing design, but just a look at a few of these outfits told him he had so much more to learn. He worked his way through the clothing in the drawers, finally deciding on a red shirt and a pair of black pants, along with a black tie and some strappy contraption. He took his time getting his hair into place, and then stepped out into the hall, following his nose down to the dining car.

The girls were staying and eating in another car with their mentors, so the only people at the table were Finn, Sue, and Julius. Kurt was more interested in the plate of rolls that was in the center of the table. They smelled sweet and absolutely heavenly. Finn was steadily demolishing a plate of food, and Kurt couldn't blame him in the least. At least they would die well fed. He sat down and began to eat.

"We're coming into the Capitol soon," Julius said, breaking the long silence. "Get ready."

Kurt finished mopping up the last of his breakfast with one of the rolls, and then switched chairs so he could look out the window and watch. After all, this was going to be his one chance to see the Capitol with his own eyes.

As they rolled into the Capitol, Kurt's eyes got bigger and bigger. District 8 had buildings, but even the nicest buildings in the District looked like rat traps next to the buildings of the Capitol. These were bright, beautiful colors with fantastic designs. Swirls and turrets and neat streets and everything clean and repaired…

"Dude, you've got your nose pressed to the glass," Finn laughed. "If you keep that up, you're going to fog it up and you won't be able to see anything."

"It's amazing," Kurt breathed, his eyes darting from building to building. And the people. He'd only ever seen Capitol people on television before. Their outfits and their alterations were just _amazing._ He wished he had the time and the money to have that sort of creativity. He was very aware of his plain skin and the flaws in his face, and the outfit he was wearing- while nicer than any piece of clothing he'd ever owned- seemed plain and boring now. "Wouldn't it be amazing to live in a place like this?"

Finn was quiet for a long moment. "It would be something, all right," he said.

"Just to be able to think about something besides food and work," Kurt sighed. "To be able to think about something besides just staying _alive_. If I lived here, I could actually design. I'd be able to work with any fabric I wanted and do some things that are really daring and wild. I could really make a name for myself."

"You'd want to do that?" Finn asked, his voice measured.

Kurt's attention was still on the scene outside. People were waving excitedly to their train now, jumping up and down. Like they were people to be admired. Like they were _celebrities._ He didn't answer Finn's question, just waved back. Then he remembered why they were waving, and dropped his hand, sitting on it. But he couldn't look away as this other life rolled by his eyes.

Finn snorted and turned away from the window, throwing himself down into a chair and slumping. He crossed his arms and glared and nothing. Kurt stayed glued to the window.

***

"I wonder what they're doing right now," Carole said, pouring a weak tea into the cracked mug she used. She sipped the scalding liquid delicately, looking at Burt and waiting for his answer.

Burt just sat at the table, staring at nothing.

"The opening ceremonies are on tonight," Carole tried. "At least we can _see_ them." _See them all trussed up and dressed for slaughter._ She pushed that thought down as hard as she could. If she let those sorts of things into her mind, she'd never get through this. Never.

"Burt," she said, laying her hand over his, "_talk_ to me. Yell at me, cry… do something. But don't just sit there and pull away. Please."

"I can't," he said, his voice hoarse. "I can't talk about it. About Kurt in that place… and Finn… just waiting to… Carole, I _can't._"

"Then talk about something else," Carole begged. "Tell me about the factory today. Rage about the idiots who can't keep their machines oiled, or the foreman, or _something_. Please, Burt." _I'm losing Finn. Don't make me lose you, too._

There was a knock on the door. Both of them started with surprise, and after a minute, Burt got up to answer it. He pulled back as he took in their visitors.

"Mr. H." Puck was standing in the door, his customary smirk gone. He looked beyond Burt and caught Carole's eye. "Hey, Mrs. H."

Mercedes was standing next to Puck. The two of them weren't all that close, as far as Carole knew, but common bonds and common grief would do a lot. "We brought something for you," Mercedes said, holding up a covered pot. "Dinner."

"Come in. Please," Carole said.

"Yeah. Come on in." Burt finally stepped aside and let them in.

"Would you like some tea?" Carole offered, desperate for something to break the heavy silence that had ruled the apartment since the boys had been taken.

"We really shouldn't stay," Mercedes began, and then broke off when she saw the look on Carole's face. "All right," she said. "Thank you."

Silence settled over them all again. Mercedes sat neatly, obviously self-conscious of her posture and her manners. Puck was scowling, angry and brooding. Carole cast around desperately for some- any- subject of conversation.

"How was school today?" she finally asked.

Puck and Mercedes exchanged glances. "Weird," Mercedes said. "Everyone's quiet."

"Everyone's pissed off," Puck corrected her.

"It's always like that after a reaping, but…."

"But it's never been someone we're friends with," Puck finished for her. Mercedes looked like she was on the verge of tears, Puck looked like he was on the verge of putting his fist through a wall.

"This isn't helping you to hear it," Mercedes said. "I'm sorry. We wanted to come over and do something to help, but…."

But they were two kids losing their best friends. Carole didn't think her heart could break any more, but apparently, she was wrong. "Stay for the day," she suggested. "Watch the opening ceremonies with us. It won't be easy for any of us no matter where we do it, so we might as well do it together."

***

"This is Raven," Julius said. "He will be your stylist."

Finn was already in a bad mood. The prep team had been absolutely awful. Finn knew he wasn't as concerned with his appearance as Kurt, but he got hygiene. Before they'd moved in with Burt and Kurt he'd taken a bath twice a week, just like every resident of District 8, and now he got the luxury of having a shower once day. He used soap and he shaved, and he knew he was a decent looking guy. But apparently that just meant he was "raw material", ready for soaking and stripping and doing other weird things to. Even _Kurt's_ patience had been stretched by the end, and Kurt had started out enjoying the treatments.

Now, the two of them stood naked in the room as a man with black hair, black clothing, and black tattoos around his eyes circled them predatorily. Kurt shivered and tried to cross his arms, but Raven slapped them down.

"No," he snapped. "You're breaking up the lines. I need to _see_."

Finn glanced at Kurt from the corner of his eye. There was a time when being naked in the same room with Kurt would have been distinctly uncomfortable, but Finn had been forced to get over that living in their apartment together. Now it was worse than uncomfortable again, but for extremely different reasons.

"Well," Raven finally sighed, "it's workable. You're both moderately attractive boys, at least. I can work with that. Far better than the troll I got last year. Or even your other tribute there. I would be utterly lost if I had to work with her." He shook his head dramatically. "I think we're going to have to play up the physical angle, though."

"What's that mean?" Finn asked suspiciously.

Raven grinned. Finn didn't like that grin at all.

***

By the time the opening ceremonies started, the Hudson-Hummel apartment was full. Over half of New Directions and Will Schuester, had shown up, and several neighbors as well. There was a buffet of food that people had brought, including the stew Mercedes had given them, real bread, a bowl of woody apples, and a cake. _Cake._ The last time Burt had had cake had been when he and Carole got married, but before that, it had been when Kurt had turned thirteen. Cake was a rarity in District 8.

"It's starting!" one of the kids announced, and everyone quieted down. They didn't have much furniture in the apartment, but Burt and Carole were given the seats of honor on the old, broken-down couch. Everyone else sat on the kitchen chairs or the bare wooden floor as they crowded around the small flickering television.

Caesar Flickerman's trademark grin filled the screen. The color changed every year, and this year it was green. Burt had always hated watching the Games, but this year Flickerman's green smile seemed even worse to him. Bloody. Treating these kids like they were people of value, when all the Capitol saw them as were animals to die for their cheap entertainment. He wished he could throw something at the screen.

They began to parade out the tributes. "I wonder how they're going to have them dressed," Mercedes said. "Kurt's either going to finally get an amazing outfit or live out his worst fears."

The opening ceremonies were always a bit of a blur, with twenty-four new faces being introduced. This year they were even more hurried, with forty-eight. "The costumes aren't as nice this year," Burt's neighbor Ken noted with a frown as the camera zoomed in on the tributes from District 7. The one girl was wearing a gold dress that suited her well, but the others were wearing costumes that either were tree-related or just… badly fitted? Didn't flatter? Kurt would know if he was here.

But Kurt wasn't here- he was _there_ in that city. And in just a minute he'd be trotted out on that chariot to-

"Oh, no." Carole covered her face with her hands.

Burt put an arm around her shoulders. He wanted to look away, but his eyes stayed locked on the screen. There were the tributes from District 8. The girls weren't too bad. The little one was drowning in a huge gown made of some opulent fabric, and the older girl was looking very nice in a suit that was dyed with beautiful patterns. Beside them, Kurt and Finn looked even more miserable, wearing nothing but strategically placed wisps of cotton. The wisps were sculpted and shaped, but they still covered very little. Their embarrassment radiated off of them, and when the camera zoomed in on their faces, Burt could see the bright red spots on Finn's cheeks and the unshed tears in Kurt's eyes. They were laughingstocks, and they knew it.

The camera cut to the faces of the crowd for the reactions. Burt found himself holding his breath. Some of the audience was laughing, some looked bored, and some… here and there he saw lust. Both boys were good-looking, and to their stylist's credit, their costumes highlighted that. It made Burt sick that he was glad to see people noticing. Because laughter and boredom didn't inspire sponsors' gifts, but lust did, and a sponsor might make the difference between life and death.

The cameras moved on, and Finn and Kurt were off the screen, although occasionally they could be seen in the background. Burt fell back against the couch.

"You okay?" Schuester asked him.

"I'm surviving," Burt answered, moping his face. It was wet. "You think they've got a chance?"

Schuester shrugged. "There's always a chance," he said, trying to sound consoling. "Some of the most unlikely tributes have won in the past."

It didn't help. Even if Kurt had to die, Burt wished he could be there tonight when his son came in from the ceremonies upset and ranting and humiliated, just to be able to comfort him. But unless Kurt won, Burt would never be able to say another word to him, never be able to hug him, never be able to so much as touch his hand when he was scared, alone, or hurting. It was the worst time of his child's life, and all Burt could do was watch. He started to shake, holding back the tears that were constantly lurking ever since that damn reaping ceremony.

He had no idea how they were going to get through this. No idea at all.

***

"It was a disaster!" Kurt shouted, pulling on a robe that Julius handed him once they were off their chariot. "We were out there practically _naked_!"

"You think I like it any better than you do?" Finn shouted back, snatching his own robe from Julius' hands without so much as looking at him. "I was right there with you, wearing the same damn cotton… things!"

The other tributes were starting to stare at them. Not starting to, Kurt realized. They'd been staring all night. Just staring more openly. He tied his robe tighter and straightened his back. 'There is no way," he said, jerking the sash in his hands, "that we are ever going to get sponsors. Not after that."

"Pipe down, Pearhips." Sue was striding towards them. "I know you two feel like a pair of idiots, which is good, because you are. But it's not as bad as you think."

"We were pretty much naked out there!" Finn said, gesturing angrily towards the door their chariot had just come in. "It _is_ as bad as we think!"

"You think that was hard?" Sue demanded. "Try wearing a bikini made out of needles to represent the cloth industry- that's hard. I couldn't put my arms down by my sides without looking like a morphling addict." She drew closer. "Now, listen. They might not have been the best costumes out there, but you made it through without making complete fools of yourself, all right?" She handed Finn his robe. "Get this on. We need to head on up to the rooms in the Training Tower."

"We have separate rooms again?" Finn asked.

"Unless you want to listen to Fancy here snoring all night."

"Do you realize that's the sixth nickname you've given me?" Kurt said.

"Eh, it's easier than actually remembering your name," Sue said, flipping a hand. "Let's go."

The Training Tower was just as opulent and lush as everything else had been. The girls and their mentors had come to join them, and the entire group stood silent and awkward.

"Floor eight," Julius said when they all piled into the elevator. The door slid shut. Kurt hazarded a peek at his fellow tributes. The little girl was shaking, but the older one smiled at him. Tentatively, but she smiled. He tried to smile back, but his mouth wouldn't work. She scowled and turned to face the front.

"These are the rooms," Julius said, obviously eager to get his charges to bed and be done for the night. "Celia, you're there, and Emily, you're there." Kurt started. It was the first time he'd really registered the girls' names. "Finn, that one's yours, and Kurt, you're there. Go get cleaned up before dinner."

Finn hesitated at the door of his room, giving Kurt a weird little smile before he opened it and disappeared in. Kurt stared at his closed door for a minute, and then shrugged and went into his own quarters. When he entered, his mouth fell open.

Every possible luxury he could want. A huge, soft, bed, any food he wanted, a bathroom the size of the big room in their apartment, and a closet full of clothing. For a moment, all he could do was stare. If he was back in District 8, it would be almost every dream he ever had come true. His feet began to move and Kurt was drawn to the closet where he began playing with the buttons, watching as the racks of clothing swirled and brought out choices. There were more styles than he'd imagined, with bright, rich colors and details that he'd only heard about.

He was still absorbed with the clothing when someone knocked at his door. "Come in," he said, unable to tear his eyes away. It took a long moment before he looked to see who had entered, and when he finally did, he saw Sue Sylvester watching him. Her arms were crossed and she wore a scowl, but for just a moment he thought he saw sadness in her eyes. But it must have been a trick of the light, because when she spoke, her voice sounded the same as ever.

"Well, Porcelain, glad I didn't find you in the shower, although good lord, do you need one. But I think that sight might have burned my retinas, and that would have been unfortunate for you."

"That's encouraging, after we made our big debut naked."

Sue shrugged. "You only pulled it off so well because your brother was standing next to you and people were looking at you as a unit," she said. "Which, incidentally, is exactly what I want to talk to you about." She sat down on a couch and gestured to the chair across from her. "Sit." Kurt obeyed, wrapping the folds of his robe around him. "Now," Sue said, "you know the deal. Only one of the two of you can come home."

"I know," Kurt said, and his mouth felt very dry as he spoke. "But I thought… the brother act."

"The brother act is only going to get you so far," Sue said. "After a while, people are going to get bored with it. You can pull it off for a few days, a week tops. But there's more to it than that."

"More to it?"

"I've talked to you and I've talked to Finn, and unless either of you is holding out on me, you guys have pretty much got nothing."

"So you've told us."

Sue ignored him. "The one of you that's going to live is going to have to be positively ruthless," she said, leaning her elbows on her knees and getting closer. "Not just with the others, but with each other. You're not going to have to kill him, most likely. But you're going to have to stand by and let someone else do the job."

Kurt's hands twisted in the fabric of his robe. "I-"

"Listen. There's going to come a time when you'll have to break the alliance, and I want you to start thinking about that now. I want you to start getting ready for it, to start preparing for it. Because if you ever want to go home again, or even better, if you want to get out of here and pack up your parents and try to move to the victor's houses-" Kurt's breath caught at that- "then you're going to have to sacrifice Finn. It's not fair, and it's not right, and believe me, I already know that so don't try to tell me. I'm telling _you_, if you want to win, that's what you have to do."

"Are you telling Finn this, too?"

Sue sighed and shook her head. "I can only bet on one of you, Porcelain. I can only get one of you out, and if I spread my resources too thin, neither of you will. Lurch there has got the strength, but not so much that it beats out your brains. And don't ever, _ever_ underestimate what brains can do in the Hunger Games. You're the smart one. You're the one that might be able to win."

_Win._ Kurt hadn't really thought of that. Winning the Hunger Games was a big honor, and it came with huge rewards, but ever since his name had been called, he hadn't really thought of it. He'd been thinking just that winning the Hunger Games really just meant you got to get out alive. But _winning._ "You really think I can win?"

"I don't know about that," Sue said. "But what I do know is that you'll need Finn for a while. And then the time is going to come to take what you've gotten from him, dispose of him, and take off on your own. It's the smartest thing to do, and by that point, the cows in the Capitol will be so blood-crazed that your betrayal will be seen as brilliant and ruthless, not the shitty act you're about to tell me it is. You do that, and you'll prove you've got the mettle to go all away. Your sponsorships will go up, you'll get more gifts, and you'll have the Capitol eating out of your hand. At that point they don't want sweet little ingenues- they want smart. Strong. Sexy. You got it?"

"But what if I don't?" Kurt asked.

Sue shrugged. "Enjoy being dead." She stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. "See you at dinner, Lady."

Kurt sat frozen in the chair. What appalled him wasn't that Sue had this strategy, or that she'd told him, or that he'd have to have a hand in Finn's death to win the Games. That was awful enough, but it wasn't what made the blood pound in his ears like this. No, what _really_ appalled him was the realization that he just might do it.


	3. The Training

Finn was beginning to wish he hadn't eaten so much at breakfast this morning. The rich food was sitting in his stomach, and as he waited with the other tributes to be let into the training center, he was pretty sure he was going to puke. Kurt looked just as bad. He was pale and he looked like he hadn't slept, and he kept looking at Finn like Finn might explode.

The training center was a huge gymnasium. Weapons were lined up on the wall- spears, axes, maces, swords, staffs… it made Finn feel even worse to look at them. It was like someone was saying, "Pick one! How do you want to die?" Or kill the others. Finn wondered if he really could actually _kill_ someone, and he had to swallow back the gorge rising in his throat.

Sue came up and clapped them both on the shoulders. "All right, Twinkles and Sprinkles, remember what we talked about. Each of you pick two weapons- ones that don't involve real skill- and get as proficient as you can. And make sure you hit the survival stations. You guys are city rats, so you need those. Got it?"

"Got it," Finn said, taking a deep breath. Kurt nodded.

"And keep your heads down. Don't say anything to any other tribute that might piss them off. You don't want to get someone after you with a grudge. Got it?" They both nodded, and Sue gave them a push. "Good. Go get 'em, tigers." With that, she backed off and walked away, talking with Woof and Grace.

"Well, at least there aren't any cameras for training," Finn said, just trying to make conversation. The other tributes had been gathering, and looking at them wasn't helping the state of his stomach.

"Oh my god, Finn. Look." Kurt pointed his chin in the direction of a boy who was two inches taller than Finn and probably a hundred pounds heavier. "That's him. That's the winner. That's who's going to kill us."

"Kurt!" Finn grabbed Kurt and clapped his hand over his mouth. Then he realized how that would look, and dropped his hand again. "Keep it together, okay?" he whispered. "This isn't a time for trash talk." Kurt nodded wordlessly. Finn's arm was still around Kurt's shoulder, so he gave him a little half-hug.

"Hey, Eight." A tribute that Finn was pretty sure was from District 2 and named Krev was leering at them. "Gonna protect your little boyfriend in the arena, too?"

"That would be something, wouldn't it?" the other male tribute laughed. "Now _there's_ a way to get a sponsor- give them quite a show. Most sponsors might not go for it, but you'll have a couple tripping over themselves. Which is stupid, since you're never going to be able to pay them back the way they're thinking, unless they get their hands on you before and-"

"Hey!" Finn lurched forward, ready to punch. But someone caught him from behind and he jerked back.

"No fighting the other tributes," a woman said in a bored sort of way. She stepped in between them. "That goes for both of you," she added, looking at Krev. Finn frowned, stepping back, and the woman strode to the center of the group.

"You do not fight a tribute," she barked to the whole group. "If you want to try some of the techniques you will learn, there are people there to assist you."

"What's going to stop us?" Finn whispered to Kurt.

"How much of a chance do you want in the arena?" Kurt whispered back. He was frowning, and Finn had the feeling that he'd screwed up. But before he could ask about it, the woman was reading off the stations that they could work at. Finn knew there was training before the Games, but since it wasn't broadcast, he'd never realized just how many things the tributes could learn. The woman released them with a sharp clap.

"Where should we start?" Finn asked Kurt. "Or should we split up?"

Kurt frowned, looking around the room. "Let's take Sue's advice and head straight to the survival stations," he suggested. "After lunch we can split up and learn different weapons."

It was as good a plan as any. Several of the Career Tributes were already playing with the weapons. Finn watched for a long moment as one fenced a dummy, her sword flashing in the light. She thrust it right into the dummy's gut, and Finn flinched.

The survival stations _were_ a good idea. Finn had never had any illusions about being wicked smart or anything, not like Quinn or Artie or even Kurt. But he hadn't realized how little he knew about living outside until they started telling him stuff. Don't drink water without purifying it or boiling it. How to start a fire. How to snare animals for food, and what plants were edible. He wished he could take notes, because he didn't think he could remember half this stuff, and it all sounded like it could save his life.

Lunch was served in a simple dining room with several tables and was just as huge and rich as their other meals had been. Finn wanted to eat, but he had the feeling that if he gorged himself, he'd end up puking on the mat when they were doing the physical stuff after, and he didn't want to do that. So instead, he sat at a table with Kurt, picking at a stew served over rice and looking around at the other tributes.

The Career tributes sat together. Finn had seen enough Games to know that they would form a pack. It happened every single Game, to the point where it was completely predictable. One year the Gamemakers had taken out the Careers early in the Games with a fire, but after that the deaths didn't come quickly enough and the Games were considered boring. Finn didn't really remember those Games- they'd been on when he was five- but he did remember the image of a skinny boy slogging through the rain, covered in mud and eventually falling over. He shivered.

There were tributes sitting near each other or at the same tables, but they weren't sitting _together_. It was clear in the way they focused on their meals, the miserable slumps of their shoulders, or the dark, brooding glares. Maybe that was why Finn noticed the boy from District 10 who was watching them.

The boy looked like he was their age. He wasn't a tall boy, but he wasn't overly skinny or anything. He had dark, curly hair and thick, heavy eyebrows. When he noticed Finn staring back at him, he smiled. _Smiled._ Finn found himself smiling back automatically before he remembered where they were. This wasn't school, and he wasn't just a nice guy who might be fun to hang out with. This was the Games.

He glanced away and then back at the boy. The boy was still watching them.

"Hey Kurt?"

"Mmm?" Kurt looked up from the roll he was picking at.

"What do you think about us ganging up with a couple other tributes? If we want to make allies, maybe we should do it now?"

Kurt frowned. "I don't know," he said slowly. "It might help, but that's just more people we're going to have to screw over."

"Yeah. I didn't think about that." Finn looked away from the kid watching them. "Just stick to you and me?"

"For now. If that's okay with you," Kurt added hastily.

It was easy to say that at lunch, but after, they split up and went to the weapons station and Finn wasn't so sure. Especially as he found himself with a morning star in his hands.

"You want to swing it like this," the instructor said, demonstrating. The spiked ball whirled around and embedded itself firmly in the dummy's head. "For a killing blow, it's best to land right here, at the temple. Not that the other spots won't hurt. But a death isn't guaranteed. Go ahead. You try it." Finn hoisted the morning star up and swung it around, and narrowly missed hitting his own head. The instructor caught the ball with a gloved hand and sighed. "You need to put more into it," he snapped. "Half-assed is just going to get _you_ killed."

Finn worked on it for a full half-hour, but he still couldn't get it. "I don't think this is a good weapon for me," he admitted.

The instructor eyed him up and down, frowning. "No. Let's try you with the staff. That might… yes. I think that might work better."

It did. The staff was a much more defensive weapon, Finn discovered. He couldn't try to _kill_ anyone with any conviction, but he had no problems defending himself or raising some bruises. It was an awkward weapon and Finn knew he wasn't very good with it, but he had a feeling it was his best bet.

"Not bad," the instructor relented at the end. "But work on it some more." He turned his attention to another tribute.

"There's another advantage to the staff," someone said. Finn spun around to see the boy that had been watching them at lunch. "You can make one, if there's wood in the arena." That was true. Finn stared at him for a long moment. The boy extended his hand. "I'm Blaine Anderson," he said. "District 10."

"Finn Hudson."

"I know." Blaine was still standing with his hand outstretched. "Everyone knows. Is that really your brother with you?"

"Stepbrother."

"Wow. That's intense. Your parents must be upset."

"Finn?"

"Kurt! I wasn't- I mean, I'm not- I mean-"

Kurt sighed. "It's okay, Finn. We can't avoid talking to people forever. Not that there _is_ much of a forever. I'm Kurt Hummel," he told Blaine.

"Blaine Anderson." Blaine finally dropped his hand, realizing that neither Finn nor Kurt were going to take it. "I saw you working with the knife," he said to Kurt. "You're good."

Kurt's stare was level. "I'm horrible."

"No! You're good. You've got agility. You just need to…."

"Have the first idea of what I'm doing?" Kurt asked with an arched eyebrow when Blaine trailed off. But he softened a bit. "I know, but I figure a knife might be easiest to get my hands on."

Blaine laughed and nodded.

That was when it hit Finn, and hit hard. Blaine hadn't been watching _them_, he'd been watching _Kurt._ He was watching Kurt now, with smiles and starry eyes, the way no one had ever looked at Kurt back in District 8. He couldn't tell if Kurt noticed or not. He couldn't tell if it was _serious_ or not. Because maybe Blaine did like Kurt, maybe he was just being friendly and looking for an alliance. Or maybe he was looking to get Kurt off his guard, get information or their plans or something, and screw him over.

"Come on," Finn said, grabbing Kurt's arm. "We're almost done for the day. Let's finish up." He yanked Kurt away from Blaine.

"What was that all about?" Kurt whispered when they were far enough. "You were the one talking about forming an alliance."

"Yeah, but you're the one that said no." He looked back at Blaine, who was watching them with a forlorn look on his face. "Trust me, okay? I just think it's a bad idea."

Kurt shrugged, but fortunately didn't argue it any more. They spent the rest of the training time learning how to use a sword (they were both pretty bad at it), and Finn was glad when training let out. He kept close to Kurt, hand on his shoulder when he could.

He wasn't surprised to see Blaine watching them as they left.

***

"Sue? Can I talk to you?"

"What can I do for you, Lurch?" Sue asked, looking up from the papers she was studying.

Finn came into her room, his hands in his pockets. He looked around awkwardly. "Nice room," he said lamely.

"Cut the small talk. That's not what you're here for. Just sit down and spit it out. You're making me seasick the way you keep swaying back and forth, not to mention giving me vertigo as I look up at your unnaturally freakish height. What's going on?"

Finn sat down in one of the leather-covered chairs, obviously still uncomfortable. "I had a question about an alliance," he said finally. "Like, should Kurt and I form one with someone else?"

Sue sat back and took off her glasses. "Who?"

"Blaine Anderson. He's from District 10."

Sue tried to picture the kid, but the most she could come up with was a mop of curls and hideous cow costume that was almost as bad as the boys' cotton balls. She shrugged. "Can't see why you're too worried."

Finn bit his lip, and then finally said it in a rush. "It's Kurt," he admitted. "They were flirting."

"Flirting?" Sue took that information in, leaning back and tapping her chin. "That's kind of interesting. We could play with that a little."

"So we should ally with him?" Finn asked, confused.

Sue considered. Tributes had had encounters before- the whole "last night before we die/hate sex" thing happened quite frequently in the Tower, and it could play out several different ways in the arena. "What's Kurt like?" she asked, because she never paid any attention to the kids' pathetic attempts at social lives in the school. "Can he use it?"

"I don't know," Finn said. "Kurt's never had a boyfriend."

"Never had a boyfriend or never done anything sexual?"

Finn shrugged. "As far as I know, he's never so much as kissed someone."

The red flags went up, the alarms went off, and everything in her head jumped up and down. Sue leaned forward. "No. Absolutely not. Let me be perfectly clear about this, Lurch. Do _not_ ally with this kid."

"Okay…"

"Let me break it down for you. There are only so many ways this kind of scenario can play out in the arena. Inevitably, someone's got to screw someone else over. And if Kurt is a blushing virgin, I can almost guarantee you that he's going to be the one screwed. At best, this District 10 kid will get killed and it will distract Kurt, and that could be deadly. At worst, it's going to come down to the two of them… or to the point where Kurt has to make a choice between him and you." Finn nodded. Slowly, but he nodded. "You got that?"

"I've got it." Finn picked at the knee of his pants. "You're worried about Kurt getting screwed over. You're not worried about me?"

"You're not the one flirting in this scenario." Sue looked down at her papers. Finn didn't say anything, and when she looked up, he was staring at her. His eyes were clearer than she expected.

"You don't think I'm going to get home, do you?" he asked.

"I don't think either of you are going to get home."

"But if you had to bet on one of us- if you had to pick one of us- you'd pick Kurt."

"I'm not picking either of you," she lied. "Do you think I'm joking when I say I think you're both going to die in there?"

Finn nodded. "It's just… I wish…" his eyes glazed over and he had to blink hard to keep from crying. Sue hoped he wasn't going to start bawling- she wasn't good at the comfort thing. But what Finn said surprised her. "I just wish one of us could get home. I don't care which one. I mean, yeah, I'd like to live, but our parents… they've already lost people before. We're all they've got."

_Oh, come on. You're exaggerating a little, aren't you?_ That was what Sue meant to say, because parents had more in their lives than just children, and anyone who thought otherwise was nuts. But at the same time, children supported their parents in District 8 when the cotton got in their lungs or the machines took limbs or the food just got too scarce and they couldn't work. And to lose both children at once…. Sue sighed and sat back.

Outside, the lights of the Capitol twinkled against the sunset, like little jewels. Even Sue hadn't been immune to the beauty when she first saw it, back in the thirty-second Hunger Games, when she'd been angry and ready to kill anyone that stood between her and District 8.

"Look," she finally said, "if you want to get one of you home, just do what I say, okay? Don't form an alliance with this kid right now. There are too many days to go before you're in the arena, and that's just too much time to get attached. Spend time with your brother, and if you two are as close as you say you are, enjoy that time. Because when you're attached at the hip in the arena, you won't be enjoying it at all. Trust me." Finn nodded, and Sue waved him away. "Now get out of here."

When the door was safely closed behind Finn, Sue got up and paced the room angrily. Seventeen and making choices like this, having to say _I don't care which one of us lives. Just get one of us home._ In the end, Finn would bear her no ill will for what she was going to have Kurt do. Not if it worked.

Sue screamed and punched the wall.

***

In the Districts, training days meant interviews of various oddsmakers and showing footage of past Hunger Games, and what former tributes had done with various weapons. Will had all of New Directions over to his own apartment to watch, because he didn't want Burt and Carole to think they had to feed the kids.

"It's not much," he said, setting out a plate of flax bread and some cheese. The cheese had cost him in the marketplace, but when he'd explained who it was for the dealer had given him a better price. Some of the kids brightened a little, which didn't surprise Will. Food was pretty scarce.

Caesar Flickerman was interviewing mentors. He didn't actually ask about the tributes and the mentors weren't allowed to tell much, but there were always little teases about what the tributes were like. He was interviewing the District 6 mentors when Puck suddenly said, "I should have volunteered."

"What?" Will looked at him with surprise.

Puck was glaring at the TV, dark and brooding. "I should have volunteered," he said. "When Finn was called. Who lets their best friend be called out to die and doesn't do a damn thing to stop it?"

"Lots of people," Quinn said. "People don't volunteer for the Hunger Games."

"They do in District 1 and 2 and 4," Mike said.

"But it's different there," Quinn insisted. "They train. You know they do. They go into it knowing exactly what the risks are. They're willing."

"I would have been doing the same," Puck said.

"No, you would have been trading your life for Finn's because you thought it was the right thing to do, not because you wanted to," Quinn corrected Puck firmly.

"Quinn's right," Mercedes said. "You wouldn't have _wanted_ to be in the Games any more than Finn does."

"And besides," Sam said, lying on the floor and propping himself up on his elbows, "when they called Finn's name you didn't know Kurt was going to be called, too."

"Yeah. You thought that Kurt would still be there for their parents," Tina added. "And you've got a little sister at home."

"And your father is worthless," Santana added. It was only what everyone was thinking, but it still seemed bald to hear it out loud.

"They're right," Will said. "It's only happened once in my life, when I was nineteen. That's the only time I've ever seen it happen in District 8."

"It's still not fair," Puck said angrily, getting to his feet. "I should have been able to do _something._."

"Anything you would have done would have gotten you shot," Quinn said matter-of-factly. "And possibly your mother and Sarah, too."

Puck scowled, and stormed out onto the fire escape outside Will's window, leaving an awkward silence in his place. "Should we go after him?" Mercedes asked.

"Give him a few minutes," Will said. The kids turned their attention back to the television, where Caesar was winding up his interview with the District 6 mentors. Will waited until he was done, and then in the space in between that and the District 7 mentors, he slipped out to the fire escape. Puck was sitting on the balcony, glaring at the world.

"You okay?" Will asked him.

"No. I'm not okay. It's not fair," Puck said. "I think that same thing every year, but every year I manage to just forget about it. This year I can't. Finn and Kurt are going to die and all I can do is sit at a damn TV screen and watch."

"What else could you do?" Will asked helplessly.

Puck's eyes were like fire. "I don't know. Take on all the fucking Peacekeepers in District 8. Run away and get to the Capitol and kill Snow. Make a stink, even if it means I get shot. _Something._"

"Puck-"

"No. Think about it." Puck stood up. "How long am I supposed to go on just watching other kids die?"

Will remembered feeling the same thing once, when he was younger. Everyone did. "Because it's futile, Puck," Will said tiredly. "What would you accomplish? You'd get killed and they'd bury your story and nothing would change. Besides, I never took you for a crusader. If I remember correctly, you did your best to make Kurt's life miserable at school, and you and Finn have had your moments as well."

Puck shrugged angrily, not denying any of it. "Yeah, well, sometimes you need to be hit over the head with a rock, Mr. Schuester. And when your best friend and another friend get called up to die, that tends to do it."

"But there's nothing you can do,"

"I know. I just wish I could." They sat in silence for a long moment, looking out at the rubble and filth and grit that was District 8. "Besides," Puck said, when Will was just about to go inside, "what have any of us really got left to lose?"

***

"There's a problem," Julius said darkly, looking up from his notes.

"What, did the Capitol run out of furniture polish to buff that shiny metal pate of yours?" Sue asked. "Because if they did, I'm pretty sure you can get some of that wax they use on the floors from the cleaners."

Julius ignored her. "The bloodbath. They're going to need to get supplies. They're not equipped."

"That's the point of the Cornucopia, genius."

"That's not what I mean by 'equipped.' I've heard some rumors from the trainers. Your boys are only on the edge of being able to survive that opening fight. And the District 2 tributes have been giving them a bit of a hard time. I think they're targeting them. They don't want to let an alliance like that survive."

Sue frowned. "You know what, Cueball? Until you're in that damn arena, facing down twenty-three other people howling for your blood, you don't get to tell me how to do my job, okay?"

Julius rolled his eyes and went back to his paperwork. "You're such a joy to work with, Sue."

"I know." Sue tried to set the back of his head on fire with her glare, but it still didn't work. She settled for whacking him upside the head with her own clipboard and disappearing into her room.

The problem was, Cueball might actually have a point.

***

It was no surprise when Blaine Anderson from District 10 sat down with them at lunch the next day. Or, more accurately, sat with Kurt, since Finn was still at the food table debating between the myriad of choices. When Finn sat down, Blaine and Kurt were laughing. _Laughing._ The only other tributes who laughed were the Careers.

"So then," Blaine was saying, gesturing with a roll, "the cow turned around and tried to go through the front door! I don't know how it got in the house in the first place, but she knocked the lamp off the table with the tail. The house stunk like kerosene for weeks." Blaine looked up as Finn sat down. "Oh. Hey, Finn."

"What are you doing here?" Finn asked.

Blaine looked down at the table and then back up. "Eating lunch?" he guessed.

"We're not allying with you," Finn said bluntly.

"I didn't ask you to," Blaine said, narrowing his eyes in a confused sort of way. "I was just talking to Kurt."

_Yeah, well, don't_ Finn wanted to say, but the look on Kurt's face said if he wanted to even make it to the arena, he'd better not. "As long as we're clear," he muttered and sat down. He picked at his lunch moodily as Kurt and Blaine continued to talk.

He was almost done when Krev stopped by their table. "So what's so special about District 8?" he asked.

Kurt and Blaine ignored him, but Finn looked up. "Huh?"

"District 8 gets to break the rules, huh? Send three girl tributes instead of two?"

Finn started to say something, but was stopped by Kurt's hand on his arm. "Don't," Kurt warned. Krev laughed and walked away.

"Why not?" Finn fumed. "After what he said-"

"Because he'll hurt you and then you'll be at a disadvantage in the arena," Kurt answered, and then arched his eyebrow at Finn meaningfully. "I don't need you getting hurt just because of your testosterone-laden desire to cover up your own guilty conscience."

"Hey, I don't have a guilty conscience!" Kurt looked at Blaine pointedly. Blaine shifted, and Finn got what Kurt was trying to say. "What? No. I don't have a problem with you guys… doing whatever you're doing."

"You're lying. I know you, Finn."

"It's not like that," Finn insisted weakly, looking around. People were starting to watch. "That's not my problem."

"Then what is your problem, Finn?" Kurt said. "We're not making plans. We're just talking."

"I don't know. Maybe I just don't want you to get hurt."

Kurt laughed, dry and bitter. "Right. Because we're not just about to fight forty-six other people to the death."

"That's not what I mean!" Finn raised his voice.

"Then what do you mean, Finn? What's your problem?" Kurt stood up. "Is it you don't like having a gay brother with the whole world watching? Is it that you're afraid you might get some weird cooties if I so much as talk to another boy?"

"It's that you fall in love with any guy who actually looks at you," Finn snapped, standing up to meet Kurt angrily. "If we were at home I wouldn't think twice about it, but right now it's just gonna get you screwed."

"News flash, Finn. I'm already screwed!"

"Yeah, well, let's not make it figurative, okay?"

"Literal! The phrase is, 'let's not make it _literal_!"

"Well, either way!" Finn shouted back. "You always do this, Kurt! Every time! I tell you I'm upset about one thing and you turn it around and make it so you're the victim. The only victim!"

"Well, forgive me for not forgetting that you used to toss me in the dumpster before Mr. Schuester started glee club! You have to admit, Finn, you don't exactly have the best track record with me!"

"That was before!"

"And when you moved in?" Kurt's eyes were sharp. "When you called me a _faggot_?"

"Well, if you hadn't spent the whole year before creeping on me-"

"So sue me for being interested! _You're_ the one who never told me no!"

"I made it clear!"

"Like hell you did!"

"How much straighter did I have to act to get it through your thick skull that I don't like guys? Not that way?"

"A simple 'no' would have sufficed!" Kurt was flushed an ugly shade of red. "But you were too busy getting off on someone liking you to shut it down with a modicum of dignity!"

"Like you would have listened anyway!"

"You know what? Fuck you, Finn Hudson. Just… _FUCK YOU._ I'll get through these damn Games on my own!" He grabbed a roll from his plate and flounced out the door and back towards the gymnasium.

"Oh yeah?" Finn shouted after him. "You just try it! Without me, you'll be dead in a day. Got that, Kurt? A DAY."

He was shaking as he looked around the room. Every last eye was on them, to the point where even the Avox refilling one of the dishes was watching. Finn nodded. "That goes for all of you, too," he said, and sat down shakily.

***

"Did you do it?" Sue demanded as soon as the elevator door closed.

"We did it," Kurt sighed. "Although Finn's got some sharp claws when he wants to."

"Look who's talking," Finn said. "Bringing up the whole thing from last year? I thought we were past that, dude."

"We are," Kurt said, looking down. "Mostly."

Finn sighed. "I still don't get why we had to do that. When we do the interviews, they're all gonna see us doing the brother thing again."

"They'll think that's the act," Sue said, being careful to pick small words, because this was the third time she'd had to explain it to Lugnut here. "This will make the other tributes think you broke your alliance and you're just acting like you're doing the brother thing in public."

"They'll figure it out right after the bloodbath," Finn protested.

"But you'll have gotten through the bloodbath," Sue said. "That's all I'm trying to do with this, is get you through the first day. If you sold it to them, you two fighting together will be enough of a shock to throw the Careers off for a minute or two. At the bloodbath, that's enough. Then you grab a few things and get the hell out of there as fast as you can."

Finn nodded, and maybe this time it had sunk in. Sue looked at Kurt, who was staring out the window of the elevator as they rode up to their floor. He was scowling, too. Well, this looked to be a pleasant night.

She ate dinner with the gloom brothers and then escaped down to the reception that the Capitol was holding for the mentors. Not that she really wanted to go, but what choice did she have? After winning her own Games, Sue had very quickly learned that the best thing to do was keep your head down and not make trouble.

Sue was never sure if she liked or didn't like circulating among the victors. On the one hand, they'd each been through the same hell. There was no one else in Panem that understood what winning the Hunger Games truly meant except for the other victors. The difference was how they responded to it. They got harder or they broke, every last one. Sue didn't know which ones she respected more.

"Where's Woof?" she asked Grace when she spotted her.

"Not sure if we'll see him tonight," Grace said, not smiling. "He's having a hard time dealing with Celia."

Woof wasn't one of the ones that became harder. Sue sighed. Not that she envied Woof and what he had to do, but still.

Laughter exploded from the other side of the room, and Sue ditched Grace to casually walk over and hear what was so damn funny. Because the group that was laughing were all Careers in the past, and whatever they were laughing at, Sue was pretty sure it was something she needed to hear.

"I swear," she heard Shine saying as she approached. "I don't know who is more delusional! I mean, it's a Quarter Quell. Of _course_ a Career is going to take it. No one else has a shot. But I heard old Shannon from District 12 thinks her tribute's actually got a shot this year."

"District 12?" Onyx, a man whose hair matched his name, had to double over because he was laughing. "Shannon's the only one from 12 who's ever won the Games in fifty years, and that's only because she played the year they took the Career pack out!"

"And then there's Chaff from District 11- he's only five years out, so his kid's got no shot, and Wes from 10."

"Moo," was Onyx's opinion.

"I don't know, Shine." Satin was from District 1 and had skin that lived up to his name, to the point where Sue was positive it was altered. "How about District 8 this year? I mean, Woof's given up and Grace is going through the motions, but Sue! There's a winner for the most delusional award. Those boys don't have a chance!"

"I don't know," Onyx leered. "Those costumes caught a few eyes. I heard Augustus saying he'd sponsor them just for a chance for a night with the two of them."

"Ugh. He'd be lucky to get one of them," Shine said, rolling her eyes. "Although I wouldn't mind taking that Finn for a roll myself. Too bad he's dead on the first day. And then there's-"

"Well, well, well." Sue decided that she'd better make herself known now, before they moved on. "Look who's here. The hyena pack."

"Sue." Shine put on an obviously fake smile. "We were just talking about you."

"So I hear," Sue said, tapping her ears. "Nice to know old Augustus is chomping at the bit. Thanks for that little bit of intel." Shine made a face, and Sue winked at her. "Some year, isn't it?"

"Sue, what are you doing?" Satin asked. "You know your boys don't have a chance in hell."

"Of course they do. This is our year. My boys have got something that no one else has got – a built-in alliance. That's going to get them far."

The other victors exchanged looks from the corners of their eyes, and there were smothered snickers. "That's not what I hear," Satin said with smirk.

"You keep believing that, Sue," Onyx said. "But once they're in that arena, they'll turn on each other, just like every other scared little tribute does."

"We'll see. Ladies. Gentlemen." Sue bowed out and left. That was exactly what she wanted- confirmation that the Careers thought that the alliance between Kurt and Finn was shattered already. It wouldn't buy them much, but it would buy them something.

Sue barely managed to wait until she was out of sight before she punched the air in triumph.

***

"You want to go out on the terrace?" Finn asked Kurt.

Kurt shrugged. "Sure." He'd been listless and dead-eyed all night, and Finn had a pretty good idea as to why.

The terrace was pretty. It was basically a walled in garden, with flowers and trees and a few little benches here and there. There were other rooms and other tributes above them, they couldn't get down onto this little garden of solitude. Finn waited until the door had shut behind them and he was certain they were alone before he said, "I'm sorry about earlier."

Kurt made a face. "Don't be. You did what we were told to do."

"Yeah, but I went for some things that were below the belt. Dredged up old history. I know it probably looked better, especially because it really got you mad, but I'm sorry."

Kurt studied him and then gave a small, tight nod. "I am, too."

There was a peach tree on their terrace. Finn picked one and tossed it to Kurt, and then picked another for himself. "I know I shouldn't be grateful," he said, biting into the fruit and trying to catch the juice dribbling down his chin, "but the food here is amazing."

"It is," Kurt agreed. He sat down against the wall, eating his peach more neatly than Finn was eating his, and looked up at the sky. "I wish you could see the stars like this from District 8."

"Yeah?" Finn sat down next to Kurt. They were sitting shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. The stars were bright, although they were still dimmed by the lights of the Capitol. "Heard one of the kids from District 11 say that they don't look the same out here," Finn said. "That they're even brighter out there."

"They would be. It's the agricultural district. They don't have the factories like we do." Kurt sighed, licking his finger. "I wish I'd gotten to see more of the Districts before I died."

"Yeah," Finn agreed, although he'd never really had that desire. "You know what I would have liked to do? I would have liked to learn how to fix some of the machines. Burt was going to show me, but he just never got the time."

"I wish we could have been there for the New Directions concert," Kurt said. "The one that opens the school year."

"I wish I could have made it to the District games," Finn said. "I think I had a shot at playing this year."

"I wish I could have had a boyfriend."

"I wish I could have had _sex_," Finn admitted.

"I wish I could have had a kiss," Kurt topped him. "Just once. Just to know what it felt like to kiss a boy."

Finn stared at his mostly eaten peach. "If this wasn't the Games," he said slowly, "I think Blaine would have been interested."

"I wish it wasn't the Games," Kurt said softly.

"Yeah. Me, too."

They sat in silence for a long moment, finishing their fruit. Finn sucked every little bit of juice off the pit. Fresh fruit in District 8 was a rarity. He wished he could send some home to his mom. Hell, he wished he could _be_ home with his mom.

"I wish I could sing," Kurt said, looking straight ahead. "Ever since we got on that train, I haven't wanted to. But it's such a part of me… I don't know. I feel like I've started dying already."

Finn knew exactly what Kurt meant. "Are you scared of it?" he asked. "Dying, I mean?"

"Yes."

"Yeah. Me, too."

"I think I'd be less scared if I knew it would be quick," Kurt said. "Or if I knew… if I knew I wouldn't be alone." His voice trembled on the last word, and it hit Finn straight in the gut.

Finn laid a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Hey. You're not going to be alone, okay? I promise you that, and I'm gonna keep that promise. If you die, you're not going to be alone."

Kurt stared at him, his eyes wet with tears. He had to wipe them away, reminding Finn of those awful days after Burt had had that heart attack and they had no idea if he'd live or die. He wanted to put his arm around Kurt, but Kurt wasn't the kind of person who liked to be touched when he was upset. Finn had learned that well enough. So instead, he just got up and got them another peach each, and then, even though he didn't feel like it, sat down next to Kurt and started singing. Just a soft song about a blackbird, a lullaby from District 8. Kurt snuffled and wiped his nose one more time, and then picked up the descant.

Their voices wound around each other, comforting them in the clear night.


	4. The Interviews

"Don't worry about what to show the Gamemakers," Sue had said. "Just do what you can. You're not going to get a high enough score to merit sponsors based on that, and that's fine. High scores make you a target."

_High scores make you a target_, Kurt repeated to himself as he stood outside the door, waiting to go in. Finn was in there now, showing the Gamemakers what he could do. He'd picked up the staff pretty easily, or at least, Kurt thought so. He'd probably get a six or a seven. Whereas Kurt… well, he at least knew which end of the knife to hold.

"You okay?" Blaine asked him.

Kurt nodded. "Sure," he said, his voice sounding higher than normal in his ears. "Never better."

Blaine laughed. "You don't have to pretend, you know. Although it's oddly cute. Not that it should be," he backtracked. "But it is."

"Cute." Kurt couldn't help smirking. "Exactly how I want to be viewed in the arena." But exactly what he'd want Blaine to say if they were safe back in District 8, the Hunger Games a horror happening to someone else.

Blaine smiled. He had such a nice smile, Kurt thought, and then reminded himself that Blaine was the enemy.

"Kurt Hummel." His name was called from the door.

"Oh god, that's me." Kurt's stomach turned over uncomfortably.

"Knock 'em dead," Blaine said, nudging him with his shoulder.

Kurt took a deep breath and headed into the gymnasium. The door slammed shut behind him, echoing off the walls. The Gamemakers were seated at a table against the wall, eating and talking quietly. Kurt had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Of all the weapons he'd picked up, he was the most confident with a knife. He chose one- a big, flashy one that would catch the light, and then had no idea what to do from there. Knifing a dummy wasn't impressive.

"I need a partner," he said, as imperiously as possible. The tone of his voice made a Gamemaker raise her eyebrow with what Kurt hoped was interest, and he kept his head up as he waited for one of the instructors to be brought in.

He'd learned a lot in the past three days, he discovered, and managed to demonstrate several throws and blocks. They weren't pretty, but they were effective, and he felt a grim satisfaction when the instructor actually grimaced in pain.

But how the hell did you show survival skills? Both Kurt and Finn had spent a lot of time at those stations, but lighting a fire or telling a nightlock berry from blueberries wasn't flashy or impressive. _High scores make you a target_ he heard Sue saying in his head.

"I don't know what you want from me," he said finally, pulling himself up. "Cameras might be prohibited in the gymnasium, but there's no way you don't know what I can and can't do. Or what I am. And if you think that surviving in District 8 when you're obviously gay is easy, you're dead wrong. So there you go- that's what I can do. That's what I've _been_ doing for the past seventeen years. _Surviving._ And it's what I'll keep doing, until I can't anymore." He lifted his head high and stormed out the door.

His knees obligingly waited until he was out of the gymnasium to start shaking.

***

"I wish they'd show footage of the training," Carole said, sitting down beside Burt on the couch and handing him his mug of tea.

"It would just scare us to see the other tributes," Burt said.

"I know. But it would just…" _It would just give us another chance to see them,_ Carole wanted to say. But Burt's scowl made her hold her tongue.

She didn't expect Burt to be all happiness and sunshine after the boys were taken. Hell, she could barely keep it together herself, and the only thing that was holding her together was the knowledge that if something happened to _her_ because of inattention at work, Burt would never be able to take it. That, and the slim hope that one of the boys would win and come home. Carole had already decided that, if that happened, she would forgive anything - _anything_- that the boy had done in the arena, even if he'd killed his brother in cold blood. But the truth was, watching Burt's anger was _hard_. It was hard because he held it all in and locked her out. They might live in the same apartment, but Carole was pretty sure they weren't living together.

She held her tongue, though, because she understood. Everyone coped with grief and anxiety in different ways, and Burt's way wasn't her way. She got up, flicked on the television, and watched as the seal showed and the anthem played.

There were no New Directions kids here tonight. Carole wondered how she felt about that as Caesar Flickerman went through his opening monologue, explaining the training scores. On the one hand, tonight was an easy night to watch. On the other, the apartment was so quiet she could hear the drip of the leaky faucet in the bathroom and the sound of Peacekeepers patrolling outside, making sure everyone was near a television.

She watched as they started showing headshots of the various tributes. The Career tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 looked terrifying to her. It was hard to tell their heights, but their faces were filled out in a way that Kurt and Finn's weren't, and their shoulders were bulky and strong. There was something about their eyes, too. Something hard and cold. It made Carole shudder just to look at them. Their scores were high, too, most of them ranging from eight to ten, although a girl from District 1 scored an eleven.

Finally, they got to District 8. Carole sat on the edge of the couch, and even Burt leaned forward. They started with the girls, showing a shot of Celia first. She was probably the youngest, and even in her head shot she looked terrified. Her score was a two. Carole sighed, because those were the worst, the little ones. Then Emily, who rated a seven.

Then Finn's face flashed on the screen, sending a shock through her system like she'd touched something too hot or too cold. He was wearing a shirt she didn't recognize and a little half smile, and under his name there appeared a five. Five. Carole twisted her fingers together. She stared at the screen hungrily until Finn's face was gone and Caesar Flickerman returned.

Kurt's face came up next. He had his arms crossed and a small smirk on his lips, the way she'd seen him when he was faced with someone he really did not like and that put him on the defensive. He got a score of six.

Burt grunted. "I thought Finn would score higher than Kurt."

"Kurt didn't score much higher," Carole said. "And both of them scored middle range."

Burt looked at her, the flat glare she'd seen Kurt use on people he thought were being stupid. "Which means what?" he asked. "What's possibly good about that, Carole?"

"I don't know. I just… Burt, I just have to believe that there's _something_ positive here, okay? That they have some kind of chance. I have to look for anything I can cling to, because there's not much hope here and I can't handle that!" A sob ripped out of her on the last words.

Burt's face crumpled, and he leaned in and put his arms around Carole, pulling her close. "Hey," he said softly. "Hey. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… you and me, we're not the ones we should be fighting." He wiped a thumb across her cheek. "I'm sorry. I know this is just as hard on you as it is on me. I'm sorry I haven't been…."

"No. I understand. How are we supposed to get through this?" Carole asked bitterly. "This isn't supposed to happen. To anyone."

"Someone said something to me once," Burt said slowly. "When Kurt was born. They said that having a child was to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." Carole shivered. "Yeah, I know. That's what I did, too, the first time I heard it. Well, I've had to watch Kurt go through all the normal things. The learning to walk and the falling down and the scrapes and bruises and dealing with the bullies… watching your kid suffer hurts. I don't know how much I can take it."

He looked so broken and lost that Carole couldn't be angry. Not at him. She nodded and swallowed around the lump in her throat. They'd get through this. Not because there was something so much better waiting on the other side, but because there was literally no other choice.

***

A five. Finn wasn't sure how he felt about that as they watched the TV in the dining room where all of them ate.

"Don't dwell on it, Stretch," Sue said, patting him on the shoulder. "We can work with it."

"Yeah, but-"

"Don't dwell on it."

Finn pressed his lips together and looked at Julius. They'd barely seen their escort the past few days, but now he was back in the room, a silent and brooding presence. But it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He looked over at Kurt, who had scored a six. Finn didn't want to admit he was a little stung that Kurt had scored higher than him, but he was.

"Well," Sue said, clapping her hands together and standing up, "tomorrow we're going to work on the interviews. You," she said to Finn, "should be pretty easy. Just keep the big dumb puppy thing going, and that ought to charm people. It's your little brother here we have to worry about."

"Little brother?" Kurt said.

"He's two months older than me!" Finn protested.

"He's smaller," Julius said. "And you work as the protective one. He's your little brother now." It was the same tone of voice he'd used when he informed Kurt that his mother had died of pneumonia and not starvation. Finn looked at Kurt, who was looking just as disgruntled as he felt. Julius ignored them. "You're the problem," he said to Kurt. "Sarcastic and superior doesn't play well. We need you to go for vulnerable and innocent."

"Vulnerable and innocent," Kurt repeated. "Because that's going to make me seem like a warrior."

"Because that's going to make you seem like a hot piece of ass and a sweet little brother," Julius corrected. "The interviews are all about getting sponsors. That's it."

Finn's stomach turned at the thought, but Kurt pressed his lips together and nodded. "I can do that," he said.

Sue patted him on the shoulder. "We'll see," she said. Her words were sharp but her tone was warm and confident. Finn's heart sank further.

A six in training. More interview coaching. Sue's approval- veiled though it was- and the way Julius was nodding. It didn't take an idiot to see who everyone was betting on.

Finn scowled and headed out onto the terrace. To his surprise, he wasn't the only one out there. Woof and Celia were sitting on a bench. Celia was crying into Woof's shoulder.

"It's okay," Woof kept telling her. "It's okay. Look, sweetie, people have won with bad training scores before." He caught her chin and tipped her face up. "You know what they gave me when I was in the Games? A three."

"But that's still better than a two!" Celia wailed, and then buried her face in Woof's shoulder again.

"Shh." He rocked her back and forth. "It's going to be okay, baby. Just remember what I told you. When that gong sounds, get off your plate and go right in to get as much as you can. You're little- no one will pay attention to you."

_No one will pay attention to you._ Finn had seen enough games to know that was the biggest piece of bullshit he'd ever heard and opened his mouth to say so. But Woof's head whipped around and he shook his head furiously at Finn.

Huh. Finn hadn't even thought Woof knew he was there.

The terrace was obviously off limits, so Finn retreated back inside and drifted to his room. He didn't feel like talking to Kurt tonight, and he really didn't want to see Sue or Julius. He sat down on the bed and stared at the floor. He was still sitting there when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in."

In retrospect, Finn really wasn't that surprised to see Woof come in. But at the time, all he felt was confusion. He hadn't talked to Woof before this, and Woof had stayed almost exclusively with Celia.

"Thank you for staying quiet out on the terrace," Woof said before Finn could say anything.

"What are you doing?" Finn demanded. "Telling her to go into the bloodbath? She's going to get killed! There's no way you don't know that!"

"You're right," Woof said heavily. "She _is_ going to get killed. Quickly, because the Careers won't have time to draw out her death with others around to fight. She'll get killed before she has to endure the arena and the hunger and the thirst and the cold or heat or the muttations they'll send at you. It will be quick."

"You can't do that," Finn said. "You've got to give her a chance."

"She doesn't have a chance." Woof sat down on the bed next to him. "Listen, Finn. If you win these Games-"

"I'm not going to win these Games," Finn said bitterly. "No one thinks so."

"No one thought I would, either," Woof said. "If you win these Games, you're going to discover what it means to be a mentor. That there are kids that have a chance. It might be slim, like it is for Kurt, or it might be reasonable, like it is for you and Emily, but there are kids with a chance. And then there are kids with no chance at all. And those kids… the kindest thing you can do is limit their suffering."

"But you don't _know_," Finn insisted. "You don't-"

"I do know. It's not easy, Finn. It's not something we do with every tribute. But sometimes, you just know. Celia hasn't stopped crying since she was called in the reaping. She doesn't have the steel. She shouldn't _have_ to have the steel, she's a child." Woof dropped his head into his hands. "She's just a kid." It took a minute to realize that Woof was crying.

"Hey," Finn said, patting Woof on the back awkwardly. "Hey. It's okay. I mean, I guess you're doing what you can." He was starting to get it now. He didn't like it, but maybe there was something to it. Kurt was scared of dying alone. Finn was scared that dying was going to _hurt_. A quick death… yeah. Maybe that was best. "I shouldn't have interrupted you guys out there."

Woof was pulling himself together. "No. You didn't realize we were there. I'm sorry. I should not have ever put my burden on the shoulders of a tribute. It was inexcusable."

"I never thought about what it's like for people who win the Games," Finn admitted. He wondered what it was like for Sue, to have to watch them. To have to coach them, knowing that at least one of them would lose. And to do it year after year. Woof had won the thirteenth Hunger Games. That meant he'd coached at least forty-seven- no, wait- thirty-seven kids. Maybe more, because one boy, one girl. And the only other two victors to help him were Grace and Sue.

No, wait. The only two who'd lived were Grace and Sue. It hit Finn with the force of a meteor- this guy had coached at _least_ thirty-seven kids, probably more like sixty or something, and only _two_ had survived.

"How do you do it?" he asked. "How do you get through it?"

"Because I have to. If you win the Games, you'll find out." Woof was back to himself now, and stood up. "I am truly sorry, Finn. Sorry that I broke down like that, and sorry that you had to overhear what I'm telling Celia. If I can give you any comfort, it's this. _You have a chance._ It's not much, but it's all you've got. And I'll give you a piece of advice, too. This is the Hunger Games. Stay by your brother. Ally with him. But whatever you do, be ready for him to turn on you. Because only one of you can win, and when it comes down to life or death, you'll both want to live."

"Okay," Finn said, more than a little creeped out. "Thanks."

Woof smiled grimly and then let himself out. Finn sat on his bed, staring into space and trying to work it all out.

***

"All right," Raven said, circling Kurt like a vulture again. "Let's do this."

Kurt was tired from his hours of working with Sue and Julius, but in the end, they'd both been pleased. Acting was something Kurt was reasonably good at, and vulnerable and innocent… well, it wasn't the hardest thing to pull off. But right now he didn't feel like being vulnerable and innocent. He was testy and tense and angry, and Raven crowding him like the bird of prey he was named for did not help one bit.

"Tell me I'm not going to be naked this time," Kurt snapped.

"You weren't naked last time," Raven said. "There was cotton. But yes, we do want to play up the promise of sex appeal."

In the end, Kurt found himself dressed in what he could best describe as a web. There was strategic weaving at least, and he didn't feel naked, but at the same time it clung to him, highlighting every aspect of his body. Little crystals of different colors gleamed along the threads, and somehow his skin stood out in contrast despite the paleness of it. When he looked in the mirror, it reminded him of the looms before the fabric was done. The threads were white, and Raven styled his hair and did his makeup so he looked very, very young.

Finn was dressed different from him this time. Raven had put him in tight black leather pants and a red shirt that looked so silky soft Kurt couldn't resist touching it. Finn looked older, a little more dangerous. And yes, protective. Kurt was _over_ Finn, and he knew that, but for a moment he wanted nothing more than to curl up in Finn's arms and just be held. He took his place next to Finn in the line, both of them staring straight ahead like they weren't speaking to each other and their alliance had been broken. Kurt could feel the others watching them.

"Wow."

Kurt turned around to see Blaine approaching, along with his mentor Wes Graven and the other tributes from District 10. Wes was very young- he'd won the Games only two years ago. "You look great," Blaine said, openly admiring.

"You look good, too," Kurt said. Blaine was dressed in soft leather. It wasn't the tight stuff like Finn was wearing, but it was flattering and made him look adorable.

If they were back in District 8… well, would he be able to look at Blaine so openly? District 8 was not the friendliest of places when it came to these things, and Blaine might be more reserved there. But if Kurt had lived in District 10, from the sounds of things, he _would_ be able to look like he was looking now. He'd be able to smile and to flirt and to express interest without worrying that being called a faggot in his own home was the _kindest_ reaction he would receive.

Blaine's eyes were still locked on him, and he was smiling. "I don't look half as good as you do," he said. "You know, if you wanted-"

"Blaine, come on," Wes ordered him. "We need to get to our places."

Blaine looked like he wanted to argue, but Wes just glared at him. As Wes pulled him away, he turned back and winked at Kurt. Kurt's heart leapt, but then he remembered none of it mattered because one or both of them could easily be dead tomorrow. Heck, Blaine could be the one to kill him tomorrow... or he could be the one to kill Blaine. He shivered. One more instance of finally getting what he dreamed of, only to find how terrible it was turning out to be.

Sue grabbed his arm and hustling him into line. "Come on," she said, grabbing Finn's arm as well. "It's time." They were herded into line, and then the forty-eight tributes all made their way onto the stage.

The stage was huge, with chairs lined up in a large double semi-circle. The District 8 tributes sat in the back row. The crowd was a mass of colors, with giant screens hanging all around to help those in the back see better. In his darkest hours in District 8, Kurt had dreamed about being in front of a cheering crowd, wearing something fabulous, the crowd screaming his name. Now he had what he'd wanted the most, and all he wanted was to turn around and run. Instead, he sat down in his chair next to Finn. Finn smiled at him, and Kurt tried to smile back. But his face felt frozen. The chair was cold where his skin peeped through the holes of his costume.

It was amazing how time could simultaneously speed up and slow down. Kurt's legs and butt were sore from sitting, but before he knew it, Finn was called to the stage. Kurt watched him head down, and could see his face on the giant screens above the crowd. Caesar Flickerman, in the twinkling blue suit he'd worn for the five years that he'd emceed the games, was extending a hand.

"So," he said to Finn as the applause died down, "this is pretty historic, isn't it? We've had brothers and sisters before, but they've never played in the same Games. You and your brother are the first. Are you excited?"

"It's… what did you say? Historic," Finn agreed.

"Now, I understand that you and Kurt there aren't blood brothers, is that right?" Caesar asked.

Finn shook his head. "No. I mean, yeah, that's right. My dad died when I was a baby, and his mom died when he was eight. We go to school together, and Kurt introduced our parents. They got married last year."

"What an absolutely lovely story," Caesar said, and there were a lot of people in the crowd sighing. "It's wonderful to see two people have such hope after great loss, don't you think?

Finn stared at him for a long moment. "Yeah," he said finally, his mouth working. Kurt knew him well enough to see that Finn was trying to hide his revulsion. "We were real happy for them."

"As everyone knows, you're allowed to carry a token from your home District into the Arena. Let's talk about your token a little, shall we, Finn?" Caesar said. "What is it?"

"Uh, it's my dad's wedding ring." Caesar held out his hand and Finn put his hand in it, and the cameras zoomed in. "Kurt's got his mom's," Finn explained, and automatically, Kurt fidgeted with the silver ring that was too small to fit on any finger but his pinky. "Our parents gave them to us."

"So moving," Caesar said. He turned to the crowd. "Don't you think? What a story!" They cheered, loudly.

He asked Finn more questions about school and about his life at home, and Finn relaxed a little. The audience was loving him, though. That didn't surprise Kurt. Everyone loved Finn- it was one of his gifts. Kurt knew that better than anyone. Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to school his mind to where it needed to be. _Vulnerable and innocent_, he reminded himself, and in his head he saw Sue and Julius standing over him, raking over every word and gesture. _Vulnerable and innocent._

The burst of applause broke his concentration, and he opened his eyes and let out his breath. Finn was walking back, looking relieved and triumphant. The crowd was still applauding. Finn sat down next to Kurt, his breath coming out in a whoosh and a pleased smile still on his face. He winked, just a quick, little gesture, and Kurt couldn't help but smile. The crowd finally began to quiet, and Caesar Flickerman turned back to face them.

"Let's hear from the brother himself, Kurt Hummel!" he called, and as Kurt stood and walked up, the crowd roared back to life again. The applause washed over him in waves, and he did his best to blush.

"Kurt," Caesar Flickerman's voice was warm. "What a night, huh? You look amazing."

"Thank you," Kurt said, and he was relieved to hear his voice shaking. Good. He was damn good. He could do this.

"Can you turn around for the audience?" Caesar asked, and Kurt obeyed. There was applause and wolf whistles, and Kurt deepened his blush. It wasn't hard- all he had to do was remind himself that Finn hadn't been asked to do this. "Wow," Caesar repeated. "So. We know that you're here with your brother, and we know that you're wearing your mother's wedding ring as a token. What I'd like to know is what it was like for you to become brothers so late in life. Was it difficult?"

_Vulnerable and innocent_, Kurt reminded himself. "No, not at all," he lied. "Finn is so easy to get along with. It was nice to have a brother."

"Rumor has it," Caesar said, nudging Kurt, "you liked him quite a bit, didn't you?" For a moment, Kurt felt like he'd stepped into too bright a light and had been frozen. The fight, he remembered. He'd brought it here himself. "It's okay, Kurt," Caesar said reassuringly. "I'm sure you're not at all alone in that reaction to Finn Hudson. Am I right?" he asked the crowd. There were hoots and applause. "But tell us, Kurt, how did you meet Finn?"

Kurt had told the story before, of course, many times and with many different embellishments to Mercedes. Mercedes, who would roll her eyes and tell him to get over his hopeless crush, and that Finn stopping Puck from bullying him once- which was no more than any decent human being _should_ do- didn't mean he deserved Kurt's undying devotion. He pretended he was telling the story to Mercedes again, with all the shy gushing that he could manage. The Capitol didn't respond the same as Mercedes did, though. There were sighs and squeals.

"So, things didn't work out between you two, right?" he said, draping his arm around Kurt's shoulders and turning him to face the crowd.

"Well, not that way, no," Kurt said. "Finn remains lamentably straight. But sometimes things work out better than what you wanted."

"Really?"

"Really. I used to hope that Finn would be my boyfriend. I used to dream about us being together, but I knew it wasn't going to last. If I was honest with myself, I knew it wasn't going to _happen_. But I couldn't help it."

He took a deep breath. "And then, one day, I introduced our parents and they hit it off. And I had to stop thinking of Finn that way. Things happened, and Finn… Finn changed. I changed. We'd both made so many mistakes and then…" he swallowed. He'd planned to cry, but it was happening naturally now, and he turned to face Finn. "I wanted a boyfriend. What I got was so much more than that. I got a brother. And I would rather have that brother than the boyfriend I was dreaming about any day of the week."

The audience sighed at that, and Finn stood up. Caesar let Kurt leave his side, and Kurt met Finn in the middle of the stage and hugged him. Finn's arms were tight around him, and he smelled like home.

"Let's give a warm round of applause to our brothers and wish them the best of luck!" Caesar shouted, and the audience responded. He gestured that Kurt and Finn should both return to their seats, and Kurt was only too happy to oblige. The interview was over, and judging by the audience's reactions, he'd done well.

Next to him, Finn smiled.

***

It could be their last night alive. It was a cliché, but it was true. After the interviews, he and Kurt had done the icy act until they'd gotten back to the Training Tower, and then come out here on the terrace, both of them still in their interview outfits. Julius had flatly told them they should watch the recaps on television, but Sue had hauled him off and they'd escaped.

Finn had meant to have a long, deep conversation with Kurt. If he was honest, he'd kind of pictured tears and promises and all that. But what happened instead was they sat outside eating peaches and singing every song they could remember from glee club. They didn't talk about home or each other, they just sang.

And really, if he could have picked, this was way Finn would have wanted to remember Kurt anyway. And he knew it was the way Kurt wanted to remember him.

***

"Porcelain."

"Sue." Kurt looked up as she came into his room. "Do you have any idea how I'm supposed to get out of this?" he asked. "Raven pretty much laced me in, and I don't know-"

"I didn't come here for a round of girl talk," Sue cut him off. "I came here to go over the plan."

Any enjoyment Kurt was feeling over his costume leeched off his face. "Right. The plan. We've been over it before."

"Let me hear it one more time," Sue ordered.

"Stick with Finn," Kurt answered. "Keep an alliance. Get supplies. And then take care of him."

"Be more specific."

Kurt winced, and Sue hated having to do this. But winning the Hunger Games meant having to do things you didn't want to do. She stared him down.

"Kill him," Kurt finally said. "Or if I don't have the guts, step back and let someone do it for me."

"Right."

Kurt picked at his cobwebs, and then looked up. "There's just one thing. How will I know when I should do it? The number of tributes left?"

"I'll send you a signal when it's time," Sue promised. "If you receive a gift and you can't think of why I would possibly send it to you, that's your signal."

"All right." Kurt sat down slowly on his bed. "And there's not any other way?"

"Not that I can see."

He nodded silently, obviously upset. But to his credit, he didn't argue with her. "All right. Thank you, by the way."

"Don't thank me yet," Sue said. "It's only just beginning."

"I know. But there's a good chance I won't get to say it afterwards."

Sue sighed. "You're a smart kid, Kurt," she said sadly. "And if you win, that's going to be what does it. Get some sleep. You've got a big day tomorrow." She opened his door. "Oh, and just tear the costume off. It's not like anyone else is going to want to touch it anyway."

He gave her a tremulous smile, and she had to leave before she could let herself think. She went into her own room and sat in the chair, staring out the window at the darkness and the lights for the remainder of the night.


	5. The Arena

The dawn broke, the light creeping in through the dingy curtains. Burt turned his head to look at it, his arms folded behind him. The Hunger Games began today.

He sat up slowly, aware of every creak and snap in his body. Normally these things didn't bother him. Normally he just laughed, or joked to Carole that he was getting old. But today he felt it, down to his bones.

Carole was asleep, curled on her side away from him, her arms wrapped around her pillow. She'd been crying last night, when she thought he was asleep. He wished he'd pulled her close and let her cry on his shoulder, but he hadn't been able to move. He'd just been able to lie there and listen until her sobs eased and her breathing evened out and she began to snore softly, her nose congested from her tears.

His wife had cried herself to sleep and he hadn't done a damn thing. And he couldn't bring himself to care, because his son had probably done the same thing.

He stumbled from their little room to the bathroom, then to the kitchen to make breakfast. He couldn't comfort Carole, but he could at least feed her. There were eggs in the refrigerator that someone had brought over last night. A luxury. Burt cracked them open and began to work.

The eggs were sizzling in the skillet when he heard Carole move from the bed. She stumbled out and they stared at each other in long silence, until Burt moved to take the eggs off the flames and Carole headed for the bathroom. By the time she emerged, he had breakfast on the table.

The sunlight was streaming into the room now, through the dingy glass and slanting across the scratched table. The table that had been given to them in order to hold a family.

Burt sat at one end, Carole sat at the other. Together, they ate their eggs in silence.

***

Finn had to pee.

Sue had made him drink water all morning. "I want you both going into that arena hydrated," she said. "Thirst will hit you quicker than hunger. When that gong sounds, remember the plan. Get a few things, work together, and then get the hell away from the Cornucopia."

"I know," Finn said, exasperated. "You've told me all morning."

"And I'm going to keep telling you, just to make sure it sticks in your thick head," Sue said. "Now drink."

So he drank. He'd been drinking all morning, and now, frozen here in this tube, standing on a metal plate and about to go up into the arena, the one thing Finn could think was that he had to pee.

He couldn't see anyone else. The Launch Rooms were small and shut off so he was alone. Even Raven had disappeared. They'd dressed him in a long-sleeved red tunic with a belt, a vest, tight fitting but comfortable pants and high, soft boots, brought him here, and the tracker had been implanted (which had _hurt_). Now it was minutes away.

There was a noise near his ear. His stomach lurched and he thought he was going to throw up, but then he had to concentrate on keeping his balance as the plate he was standing on rose through the tube and he burst into the sunlight above.

A voice. "Ladies and gentlemen! Let the Fiftieth Hunger Games begin!"

Finn blinked against the light, and his breath caught in his throat as he reminded himself not to move until he heard the gong. The forty-eight tributes stood in a circle around the Cornucopia. It was even bigger and shinier than it looked on television, and stuffed with backpacks, weapons, gear, pots, food, and bottles of water. The prizes were spread out on the ground as well, scattered all around the meadow.

The meadow. What amazed Finn most was where they were, in a meadow. He'd seen Games before. They never started in a place like this, with green grass and flowers and birds and blue skies above their heads. There was a snow-capped mountain in the distance, and forest all around, although it was a long ways away. They'd have to run.

He was positioned well. Kurt was two tributes away, and the Careers were all across the circle. Good. That would make it easier to get what they needed and get out. Finn tensed, his muscles tight and ready for action.

The gong sounded, and he lurched off his plate, running.

His hand closed around a water bottle before he was even aware of what he was doing. He spied a backpack further on, but wasn't sure if he could get to it. There was a small knife on the ground and he grabbed that.

The air around him had exploded with sounds. Some of the tributes had been right off the mark- he saw one curly-haired boy already running towards the woods, a backpack on his back and a machete in his hand. Others had been slower; he heard a wrenching, shrieking scream and he knew the first death had happened already.

Ten yards in front of him was the small pack. It wasn't going to have much, but it was going to have to be enough. Finn ran for it, and someone grabbed him from behind.

He had the knife, but he wasn't ready to use it yet. He whirled and saw the tribute from District 6, who'd just managed to get a grip on his shirt. He swung, a blind, desperate, unplanned blow, and struck him across the face. The District 6 tribute stumbled back, and Finn dove for the pack. He landed short, scraping his elbows and knees along the ground, and then scrambled forward and grabbed it.

A pack, a water bottle, and a knife. That was enough for right now. Sue said just a few small things. He turned to run and saw Kurt. Kurt was scrambling for something in the grass, and two tributes were closing in on him. One was a Career.

For a moment, Finn stood frozen. He could run now. He had a few things, he could run and let the others kill Kurt and then he wouldn't have to do it himself later. He could get away and get into the safety of the forest….

But he'd never be able to live with himself.

Finn roared out a cry and launched himself at the Career tribute. It was Krev from District 2, and just as Sue predicted, he was caught by surprise. Finn still couldn't bring himself to use that knife, but now he was feeling free with his fists and he landed three good punches that sent Krev staggering.

Kurt cried out, and Finn turned back around to see Kurt on his back, kicking at the tribute who was looming over him. She had already gotten her hands on a mace, and Kurt rolled just in time to keep his head from exploding underneath her blow. Finn looked around, grabbed a rock from the ground, and threw it. It hit her square in the forehead, knocking her off balance. Finn reached down, grabbed Kurt's hand, and hauled him to his feet.

"Come on," he gasped. "Let's get out of here."

They began to run.

The grasses whipped their legs, and Finn could feel them even through the thin pants that he'd been issued. They ran through the meadow, stumbling over the uneven ground. Finn's legs were burning and his lungs felt like someone had dropped molten metal into them, but he kept running. The damn treeline didn't seem to be getting any closer, but the sounds of shouting were becoming more and more distant. Beside him, Kurt was panting, his breath coming out in ragged sobs. It was just the pounding of their feet and the voice in Finn's head, the one that kept yelling at him to _run._

Finally, they reached the tree line. The grass gave way to pine needles and dead leaves, and the canopy of green overhead blocked the sun. Kurt fell down against a tree, clutching his side, his face sweaty.

"I don't care if they're coming," he said. "I can't run anymore."

Finn would have answered, but now that they had stopped his stomach was rebelling. He staggered a few steps away and leaned over, holding on to a tree as he vomited up everything he had eaten that morning. He tried to stop- vomiting would dehydrate you, or at least they'd said that in training- but his stomach wouldn't listen. He vomited until there was nothing left but dry heaves, and then forced himself to breathe through it.

Finally, he was able to straighten up. His legs were tightening, and he limped over to where Kurt was still slumped between the tree roots. "We're going to have to move soon," he said. "Get deeper into the woods where we can hide. That's probably our best bet for a while."

Kurt nodded, his eyes still closed. "I don't suppose we managed to get any water."

Finn hadn't even looked at the supplies yet, but he remembered the bottle. "Don't drink too much," he warned. "I don't know how easy water's going to be to find."

Kurt took the bottle and opened his eyes to shoot Finn a look of intense gratitude before drinking in measured sips. Finally, he handed the bottle back to Finn, a third empty. Finn wiped off the mouth of it and drank half of what was left. It didn't leave them much, but if he didn't, he wasn't going to get anywhere.

"Let's see what we've got before we go on," he suggested. He opened the small pack he'd managed to grab. It didn't have much- just another water bottle, this one wide-mouthed, metal, and empty, a fire-starting kit, and a bundle of herbs. Finn looked at them, frowning. They seemed vaguely familiar.

"Tobacco," Kurt said. He struggled to his feet, then winced and grabbed at his ribs.

"Dude. You okay?"

"I think so. I…" Kurt took a couple of steps and winced again. "No."

Finn looked out at the meadow. No one was approaching. He stepped forward and helped Kurt unbuckle the belt around his waist and flipped up his tunic. There were no cuts, but the bruises were already forming. "Ouch."

"Understatement," Kurt said dryly.

"Can you breathe?" Finn asked.

"Yeah. It hurts, but I can do it." Kurt studied his torso. "I couldn't have hurt myself too bad."

"You mean that tribute couldn't have hurt you too bad," Finn said. He thought back to the little he knew about first aid. "We could put ice on it."

Kurt glared at him. "And where are we going to get ice, Finn?"

They stared at each other, and then Finn burst into laughter. Kurt tried to laugh, too, but the pain in his ribs made him double over. The laughter stopped quickly.

"We're going to have to do something about it," Finn said. "Pressure?"

"That might work. What else have we got?"

Finn studied the rest of their loot. He had the water bottle with a little water left in it and the knife. Kurt had managed to grab a bag as well. It wasn't even a pack, but a burlap sack. The sack had a pack of crackers, a hard cheese, three throwing stars, and a bigger knife than the one Finn had found. "Here," Kurt said, handing Finn the food and the stars. He took the knife and cut the burlap sack so it formed a neat strip, and then pulled his tunic off and put his arms out. "Tie it around my ribs," he ordered. "As tight as you can."

Finn nodded and picked up the fabric. It was rough and itchy and he was sure he'd be hearing about it for a while. He approached Kurt and then hesitated. For all that they were brothers and had hugged and touched hands, he'd never put hands on Kurt's bare skin before.

Kurt saw his hesitation and rolled his eyes. "Seriously, Finn? You choose _now_ to have a gay panic attack?"

Finn opened his mouth to snap back when they heard something snap. Someone- or something- was near by. Kurt was right- it was stupid anyway- and Finn took the burlap and tied it as tightly as he could around Kurt's ribs, as fast as he could.

"Any better?" he whispered. Kurt nodded. He picked up his knife and Finn picked up the pack, and they began to move.

After a few minutes, nothing jumped out at them or slaughtered them, and they began to relax a little. The need to pee was returning fast, and Finn took a moment to slip into the woods to take care of that. When he came out, he found Kurt staring around, a furrow between his brows.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes. I'm just thinking that we need to find water soon. What we've got won't last us very long."

He was right about that. "Any ideas on where we find it?"

"The ground slopes down that way," Kurt said, pointing. "Water doesn't flow uphill. Let's go that way."

"Okay." Finn shrugged and followed.

The woods smelled good. Finn wished he could enjoy walking through them. The ground was soft under his boots, and the shade felt good. He felt sticky and sweaty, but other than that, he was holding up pretty well.

Kurt had found a long stick. It was knobby and awkward, but it was enough for him to lean on. It seemed to really help him. "We need to keep an eye open for a good stick for you to make a staff out of," Kurt said, scanning the ground. "That little knife is more of a tool than a weapon."

"Yeah," Finn said. "I think-" he broke off, because he heard that snap again.

"Somebody's here," Kurt whispered.

"It could just be an animal," Finn whispered back, drawing closer.

"I don't think so."

"What do you want to do?"

Kurt looked around, biting his lip. "Stay close to me," he said finally. "If it is someone, take my stick and use it as a staff. But I still think this is the best shot we've got at finding water."

Finn nodded and slowed his pace a little more. They continued walking in silence, until Finn saw a flash of red. A tribute. He put up his hand and blocked Kurt, who stopped immediately.

"There's got to be water around here somewhere," they heard a voice saying. Male voice, young. Kurt and Finn exchanged glances.

"We'll find it," someone answered. Finn's eyes widened. He was pretty sure he knew that voice. "You doing okay?"

"I'm hanging in there. We should have gotten more from the Cornucopia."

"No, we needed to get out of there."

"That's Blaine," Kurt whispered. "That changes things."

"You think he's going to be willing not to kill us now that we're in the arena?" Finn asked skeptically.

"I think we've got a better shot. He got a five for a training score." Kurt frowned. "Besides, we need water."

"Right." Finn sighed. "Keep your knife out, okay? This could get nasty."

He felt like they were walking into a trap, but as they got closer to the two tributes, his misgivings began to fade. Neither of them were taking any trouble to hide their tracks or be all that stealthy, probably because they didn't know how. Just like Finn and Kurt. "We should change the color of our shirts somehow," Finn told Kurt.

"How?"

"You're the clothing lover," Finn said.

"It's not like I have dyes on me."

"Mud," Finn suggested as they trudged along. "Ash."

Kurt shuddered.

They'd walked about a mile when Finn finally got a really good look at the other two tributes. One was definitely Blaine. The other was from District 9, if Finn remembered right. He was skinny and weedy, and probably in his early teens. Blaine was carrying a spear, but it was a wooden one with a stone tip. It would only be truly effective if Blaine knew how to throw it. The other boy was carrying a pack slung over his hip, but by the looks of it, it couldn't contain much. He didn't have a weapon.

"We're probably supposed to kill them, aren't we?" Finn asked tentatively.

"That's what we're here for," Kurt said, but he looked as sick as Finn felt. "Finn… I don't know. I mean, I think I could kill someone if they attacked me. I _wanted_ to kill that girl with the mace in the meadow. I tried. But to just attack someone and kill them in cold blood?"

"I know what you mean." Finn sighed. "Look, it's not like we're well armed anyway, and you've got your ribs. We don't have an advantage or anything. We'll keep an eye out, but we won't attack them unless they attack us. We aren't ready to start taking people on."

"We're prey, not predators," Kurt muttered, but he nodded. They were in agreement.

Finn felt a little better, and he and Kurt made a little less effort to hide themselves. They were still walking in the same direction as the other two tributes, and Finn had a feeling that would happen until they found water. Soon they were level with the other two boys.

Finn wasn't sure if he was surprised or not when Blaine didn't greet them. Instead, he just watched them warily, his grip tightening on his spear. Neither Kurt nor Finn offered reassurances, they just kept walking, their own weapons at the ready. The four boys fell into step, each pair watching the other tensely.

Hell with the tributes- the _tension_ was going to kill Finn now.

Four sets of footsteps. Four sounds of breathing. The four of them marched in unison until a new sound broke through their silence.

Water.

The boy from District 9 broke into a run, and Blaine laughed. But Kurt caught Finn by the arm. "Don't drink from the stream," he said. "We'll make a fire and boil some."

"Right."

The stream was absolutely beautiful, crystal clear and gurgling over smooth rocks. It took everything Finn had not to do exactly what the boy from District 9 was doing, which was kneeling beside the stream and scooping water into his mouth. He smiled at Kurt, feeling a little more hopeful.

That feeling died immediately, when the boy from District 9 started gagging.

"Gray?" Blaine asked, moving to the boy's side. "Gray? Are you okay?" Gray had fallen to the ground, his muscles convulsing. Finn watched in horror as he began to foam at the mouth. "Gray!" Blaine cried, falling to his knees. "Gray, what… you can't!"

It took a long time for Gray to die. Blaine tried to help- he used some technique where he pumped on Gray's chest and tried to restart his heart, but in the end, it was no use.

"The water," Kurt said. "It's poisoned."

Gray jerked one final time and the lay still. In the distance, a cannon fired. Finn jerked. He'd forgotten the cannons that came with each death, and this was the first time he'd heard one in the arena.

"The others must have been while we were running," Kurt said softly. Finn just nodded.

Blaine was on his knees, closing Gray's eyes. He bowed his head for a long moment, and then picked up the pack Gray had been carrying. "Come on," he said. "They won't come for the body until we get out of here."

"Where are we going?" Kurt asked, a slight emphasis on the word _we_.

"I don't know. Follow the stream, I guess," Blaine said. "If nothing else…" he trailed off, completely unsure of what to say.

Kurt looked up at Finn. "Well? What about it? You're the one who didn't want us forming an alliance with Blaine."

"You know a lot of that was for show," Finn said, and sighed. He still didn't like the idea, but right now, he couldn't see another choice. It was form an alliance or kill each other. And while he was pretty sure he and Kurt could take Blaine in a fight, especially with a poison stream to work with, he really, really didn't feel like finding out right now. "Okay. Let's go. All of us."

They began walking again, the three of them together.

***

They didn't dare to light a fire that night, even though it was cold.

"There's another problem," Finn said as the three of them sat on the ground, each of them eating two crackers with two slices of cheese. "We don't have much food."

"We could hunt," Blaine suggested.

Kurt shook his head. "I don't think so. I haven't seen anything, but even if there is, if it can drink out of that stream, do you think it's going to be good for us to eat?"

Blaine swore softly under his breath. "The same thing is probably true for the plants, too," he said.

"So this is it?" Finn asked, looking at their sparse collection of food. "This is all we've got?"

"It is," Blaine said. "We're going to have to get more."

"Or," Finn said, "there's another option."

"What's that?" Kurt asked.

Finn looked pointedly at the stream. "We drink."

"What?"

"We drink," Finn said again, his voice growing stronger. "What's the difference? There's no food. There's no water. We've got sticks and knives and _rocks_ to fight with. Kurt's hurt. We're all going to die anyway. Why should we die for anyone's entertainment? Let's just drink the water, die in thirty seconds, and be done with it."

Blaine sat back, staring at the stream, his face pale.

"No," Kurt said. "Finn, don't do that."

"Why not?" Finn demanded. "It would show them! I'm not just some… some _toy_ that they can kill off for some show! Maybe I'll be dead, but I won't give them the satisfaction of enjoying it!"

"He's got a point, Kurt," Blaine said. "I don't like it, but he's got a point."

"No." Kurt was shaking his head hard. "No. I can't believe either of you would even think of this! We've gotten through today. A lot of tributes died, but _we_ got through today. I'm not giving up just because we've hit a snag!"

"A snag? It's die fast or die slow, Kurt!" Finn shouted.

"There's got to be water somewhere in this arena, Finn!" Kurt shouted back. "Otherwise it would be a very short Games! And I am going to find it!"

"And do what? Start killing people? Because I don't think you can do that!"

"Well, you can't either! You've had the knives! You didn't want to attack Blaine and Gray any more than I did!"

"Which is why we should just drink the damn water!"

"Screw you, Finn! I am _not_ going down without a fight!"

Without warning, the sky opened up. Water rained down, even though there hadn't been any clouds there before. It drenched all three of them, dripping off their hair and noses.

"Guys," Blaine said excitedly, "I don't think the rain is poisoned."

He was right. It wasn't. Kurt dove for the water bottles and opened them up, and soon they were filled to overflowing. Finn tipped his head back, mouth open as the water poured down, and Blaine followed suit.

The water stopped as suddenly as it had started, like a faucet turning off. It left puddles on the ground and all of them sopping wet.

"Do you think they heard us?" Blaine asked. "Is that why?"

"I don't know. They probably had to give water to the others, too," Finn said.

Kurt frowned. "If they're giving us water by rain, it probably means that no other source of water is safe. Don't drink from anywhere but the water bottles." He scoffed a toe through the mud. "We should probably also use the time to muddy up our shirts."

They did that, stripping their wet shirts off and stomping them into the mud. For a moment, they were three teenagers again, playing at a silly, stupid game and laughing. But the sunlight was fading and when they pulled their shirts back on, reality set in. There was no place to sleep but on the wet ground, and lighting a fire was both risky and impossible with the wood all being wet.

"We should keep watches or something," Finn suggested. "I'll take the first one."

"Okay. Wake me up when you get tired," Blaine said, leaning against a tree. He was asleep in minutes.

Finn crept over to where Kurt was sitting. He looked positively miserable, with his hair plastered against his forehead and covered in mud. "How's the ribs?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh. I'm all right." Kurt sighed. "Just thinking."

"What are you thinking?" Finn asked warily.

"A lot of things. How to get food."

"What, do you have ideas?"

"I might," Kurt said with an enigmatic smile. "I need time to think about it though."

"Think all you want," Finn said. He patted Kurt on the shoulder. "But make sure you get some sleep, too. Okay?" Kurt nodded. Finn picked up a stick they'd found as they'd followed the stream and a knife. At least he could keep himself awake on watch.

***

"Eighteen deaths in the bloodbath," Atella Gentes was saying on the screen. "Now, in a normal Games, that would be a high number, but in this Quarter Quell, that's like nine deaths in the opening fight, a typical count is ten or eleven deaths, so these Games are actually starting out a little slow."

"Well, if you only count the fight at the Cornucopia," Papus Aelia corrected her. "Remember, there were four tributes that died of poisonings as well, bringing the first day count up to twenty-two."

The Hudson-Hummel apartment was crowded again tonight, but Carole barely noticed anyone else. She sat on the edge of her seat, her hand tight around Burt's barely daring to breathe.

Kurt and Finn were _both_ still alive. Celia had died in the bloodbath and Emily had died drinking the water, but not Kurt and Finn. The tribute field had been cut nearly in half, and both of them had survived.

On the television, the commentators were still talking, showing footage of the scenes at the Cornucopia. Carole watched eagerly as the District 1 tribute once again attacked Kurt and Finn once again threw his rock, and the two of them escaped. The focus was really on the girl's recovery and the way she took out the tribute from District 6, but in the background Kurt and Finn were visible, running away.

"I've got to say, Atella," Papus continued, "some of the betting has certainly shifted. The tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 are traditionally strong, of course, and continue to be in these Games. But there are some real contenders from the other districts."

"I know! And two of the tributes that have the entire Capitol talking are the brothers. Between the both of them surviving the battle at the Cornucopia and being able to get water, and their alliance with Blaine Anderson from District 10, the odds on Kurt Hummel and Finn Hudson have gotten considerably better."

A ragged cheer went up inside the apartment, elation and relief coloring almost every face. Carole closed her eyes, savoring the knowledge. They were alive. They were doing well. They were together, they'd formed an alliance, and they knew what some of the dangers were. Kurt would keep Finn from following his stomach to his death, and Finn would be able to help Kurt physically defend himself. There was _hope_.

"Turn it off," Burt grumbled.

"Leave it on," Carole said. "I want to see what they have to say about some of the others."

"Turn it off!" Burt shouted. Everyone in the apartment fell silent, and Burt stood up and snapped off the television. "Just… turn it off. It means nothing."

"Burt-"

"Don't 'Burt' me, Carole," Burt said. "It doesn't change anything. They still can't both come home."

"I know that," Carole said slowly. "But they made it through the first day. That means _something._"

"Yeah. It means they'll die tomorrow," Burt said. Will stood up and tried to reach out and touch Burt, but Burt shook him off. "All this means," Burt said, his words slow and deliberate and angry, "is that they have to suffer more before they die. I don't want to talk about it, I don't want to analyze it, and I sure as hell don't want to watch it!"

"Burt," Will tried, "Carole's right. A lot of people were betting they wouldn't make it through the first day. They've proven a lot of people wrong."

"Doesn't matter," Burt said. "Nothing matters. They're dead, Carole, and the sooner you get that through your head the sooner we can…" he stopped, his face twisting into a spasm of pain. "Fuck!" he shouted, slamming his hand against a wall. Everyone flinched. "There's no point in hoping, Carole. No point at all."

"That's all I have, Burt. Hope and you," Carole answered.

Burt's expression broke her heart. "I can't do this," he said, his voice broken and cracking. "I'm sorry. I just can't."

The door slammed behind him.

Carole stood in the middle of the crowded room, everyone silent, everyone watching her. "He's not gone," she heard herself saying. "He's not gone. He's not leaving. He'll come home."

Will touched her arm. "Carole…"

She threw him off. "He's not gone!" She whirled on him. "There is still hope! I can't give up on this family! I _won't_ give up-" she broke off, wiping her face. "We finally got a family, after years of just limping along with some broken remnant. We finally have something worth cherishing, worth fighting for. All four of us. We are a fucking _family_, Will, and I am not letting it go without a fight! I won't!"

Her words fell on the others, and she saw it. A flicker of interest on Puck's face. Guarded happiness on Mercedes'. Apprehension on Quinn's, respect on Santana's.

"I'm going after him," she said.

She ran down the stairs, the words giving her speed. _I an not letting it go without a fight. Without a fight._ She got to the bottom of the steps and out the tenement door when she spotted Burt. She ran after him and grabbed his arm.

"You listen to me, Burt Hummel," she said, holding him still so he couldn't move. "Nine months ago, you and I stood in front of our friends and family and we took vows. We promised that we were a family."

"Carole, I'm not leaving-"

"Shut up," Carole ordered. "You know what? We can't save Finn and Kurt. I know that. Believe me, I know that. But why should we go down without a fight?"

Light flickered in Burt's eyes. "Carole…" he looked around.

There was no one in the street. Carole leaned in closer. "We could do it, Burt. We could make things hell for the Capitol. Maybe not across Panem, but definitely here in District 8."

"We can't do that, Carole."

"Maybe we shouldn't be the only ones making that decision," Carole said, unable to believe she was saying it.

"Carole," Burt's voice was desperate, "you're talking treason." But he looked more alive and more hopeful than he had since Kurt's name had been called at the reaping.

"I know," Carole said. "But look at our lives, Burt. Look at our world. If they die and you and I do this together, what have we got to lose?"

Burt's eyes glinted in the moonlight. "Nothing," he said. "Absolutely nothing." He sighed. "I'm not making any promises," he warned her.

"I'm not asking you to," Carole said. "But it's something to get us through."

Burt nodded. "It is," he agreed, and pulled her in close. They stood in the middle of the street, holding each other, until the sound of a Peacekeeper patrol a block over made them cautious again. "Come on," Burt said, holding out his hand. "Let's go back home."


	6. The Ally

Kurt woke up to sunshine on his face and extremely sore ribs. Moving was a chore, and he actually groaned as he tried to sit up.

"Hey? You okay?" Blaine hurried over. The sunshine filtered down through the canopy of leaves overhead, making the forest look like something out of an idyllic children's tale.

"I will be," Kurt said, although he had nothing to base that on. Just hope. "Is Finn still alive?"

"You can't hear the snores?" Blaine asked.

"Ugh. We should wake him up or he'll bring every tribute around down on us." Kurt got to his feet painfully. "How did I live with this the past nine months?"

Blaine laughed. "I'll get breakfast out," he suggested.

Kurt disappeared into the bushes for a bit, wishing he could wash his hands after. Even during the worst times in District 8 he could wash his hands after using the bathroom. But washing his hands in poison obviously wasn't a good idea, and their water was too precious to be wasted on such a luxury.

"I will never understand why there are people in the Capitol that think camping is fun," he said as he came back out, wiping his hands on his mud-soaked pants. "What's wrong?"

"The crackers," Blaine said, looking forlornly at their food supply. "They disintegrated in the rain."

"Oh." Kurt sighed heavily, and then went to wake Finn up. Finn came awake blurry-eyed and messy-haired, and for a moment, clearly didn't realize where he was. Kurt could see the precise moment that the memory crashed over him.

"Are we still alive?" Finn asked.

"Yes. Get up, sleeping beauty. It's time to start another exciting day."

"I hate you," Finn groaned, but he struggled to his feet. "I've got to- where should I-"

"Our full bathroom complete with a huge tub is over that way," Kurt said, giving Finn a little shove towards the bushes.

"Is he always this much of a morning person?" Blaine said as Kurt rejoined him. He dug through his pack. "Gray and I managed to get some jerky," he said. "You guys are welcome to some."

"Thanks." Kurt took a piece and two thin slices of cheese. It was a meager breakfast, but it was all they had. He munched on it as he waited for Finn to finish up. The jerky was tough, but flavorful. Even in the arena the food was better than District 8. He and Blaine sat cross-legged, eating in companionable silence.

"Okay," Finn said, joining them in their little clearing and looking much more awake. "Last night you said you had an idea." He sat down with the other two and picked up his portion. "What is it?"

Kurt took a deep breath. "I propose," he began slowly, "that we go back to the Cornucopia and steal food from the Careers."

Finn goggled at him. "You're insane."

"No, I'm not. That's the only supply of food that we're sure is safe," Kurt said. "Unless you want to test some of the berries that are around." Finn shook his head. "If we're going to do it, we have to strike now."

"Why now?" Finn asked. "Why not wait until the Career pack gets thinned out a little? There's like, twelve of them."

"Because we don't have any food. Just what we've got here. We'd be better doing it now while we still have strength rather than waiting."

Finn nodded grimly. "That makes sense. Yeah."

"Plus," Blaine said slowly, "there are still other tributes for the Careers to hunt. We're not a big threat yet. None of us got high training scores, or low ones. We're not dangers and we're not easy prey. Not to say they won't kill us if they come across us, but they're not looking for us yet."

Kurt looked at Blaine with increased respect. "True. And while they're hunting, there won't be twelve people at the camp. They'll all want the glory, so it will probably just be a few tributes guarding the camp."

Finn nodded. "Okay. I'm in. So how do we do it?"

"That I don't know," Kurt admitted. "We're going to need to sneak up on the Careers' camp and spy on them, figure out a strategy then."

"But they're camped out in the middle of the meadow, aren't they?"

"We'll have to do it at night, then," Kurt said. "They'll have to hunt sometime tonight- they always hunt the second night, before people catch on to how bad an idea lighting a fire is."

"That gives us the whole day to get closer and to plan," Finn said, sounding a little more cheerful. "And to rest up a bit."

They were going to take on the Careers. Kurt was kind of impressed with their own audacity. But at the same time, they might really have a shot. He smiled slowly. "We can _do_ this."

***

The thing about Blaine, Kurt discovered very quickly, was he was just so _easy_ to talk to. Partly because he was so open, but partly also because Kurt felt a connection to him.

"Did you know the other tributes from District 10?" Kurt asked as they walked along, the sunshine beating down pleasantly on them.

"Not really," Blaine said. "District 10 is pretty big." He was silent for a minute. "I know Wes, though."

"Well, yes. He's your mentor, right?"

"Not just like that." Blaine focused a little more carefully on his feet. "He was a year ahead of me in school, but we knew each other. We were both into music, and we sang together."

"Oh! Like a choir."

Blaine looked up, flashing a quick smile. "Like a choir," he agreed. "It was a boys' a capella group. We were good, too," he said with a wistful grin.

"I'll bet."

"Anyway, Wes kind of led the group, until he got called two years ago at the reaping. And when he came back… he's still in school. He was supposed to finish with me this year. But he doesn't sing much anymore."

Kurt remembered that night out on the terrace with Finn and opened his mouth to say something when Finn screamed. Immediately, Blaine whirled, but there was no one around. Finn was kneeling on the ground, cradling his arm and tight with obvious agony.

"Finn!" Kurt was by his side in a second. "What is it? Did someone-"

"That," Finn said through clenched teeth, pointing.

"The butterfly?" Kurt said incredulously. It was a beautiful butterfly, with jewel-toned wings, fluttering off on the light breeze. "The butterfly bit you?"

Finn nodded. Kurt opened his mouth to mock him, but Finn drew in a sharp breath, curling around his arm.

"I've seen those," Blaine said. "They're flutterbies. We have them in District 10." His voice was urgent. "Kurt, did I see tobacco leaves in your pouch?"

Kurt had forgotten about them. "Yes, but-" before he even finished the sentence, Blaine was digging through the small pack. He might have argued, but Finn groaned in agony and Kurt turned back to him, and oh god- his entire _arm_ was swelling. "It's okay, Finn," he said, dropping to his knees beside Finn and grabbing his good hand. "I'm here. I'm…" he had no idea what he could do to help. Did you make a tourniquet for flutterby stings to kept he poison from spreading? Or ice? Or water? Or cut the wound open and drain it?

"Here," Blaine said, pushing Kurt away. He had a knife in one hand and something in his mouth. "Okay, hang on, Finn. This is gonna hurt." He took the knife out and cut a small incision in the skin. Finn tried not to make noise, but he couldn't help it and what came out was a gargled cry that ripped at Kurt's heart. Tears were flowing freely down Finn's face now, and all Kurt could do was stand there, hands useless as Blaine worked. Green pus dribbled out of the wound on Finn's arm, and Blaine kept squeezing until the pus turned yellow, and then clear, and then to deep red blood. Blaine looked relieved when he saw it, and then pulled a green mass out of his mouth. "Get a bandage ready," he ordered Kurt, and put the green mass on Finn's arm. Finn shuddered, and then his entire body relaxed.

There had been a little bit of burlap left from the bag that made the bandages wrapped around Kurt's ribs last night; Kurt cut a strip and handed it to Blaine. The wound wasn't bleeding much since the cut Blaine had had to make was small, but Blaine tied the bandage around to keep the green goop on Finn's arm. "There," he said when he was done. "I think we'd better take a bit of a rest, just to make sure I got it all."

"Got all of what?" Finn asked.

"The poison," Blaine explained. "Don't worry. I've been stung before. Like I said, we have those in District 10. They're nasty. But if you treat it quick enough, it just hurts. Really hurts, but hurts. The longer you let it go, the worse it gets. But we got to it right away and you guys had the tobacco, so you should be good."

The color was returning to Finn's face now, and the swelling in his arm was already starting to go down. His breathing slowed down to normal and he wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Thanks, man," he said, sitting back heavily. And then yawned hugely. "I'm wiped. Is that normal?"

"Yeah. That's normal. The stings make you really drowsy after you treat them." Blaine patted Finn's good arm. "Why don't we take a breather, and you get some sleep? If you're not feeling good, we're not going to get far."

"Okay." Blaine helped Finn get over to a bed of moss under a tree, and Finn stretched out. It was only a few seconds, but Finn's eyelids were already fluttering shut. Blaine watched him, and Kurt watched Blaine.

"That tobacco is powerful stuff," Blaine said, turning back to Kurt. "Do you know that in some places they actually smoke-"

"You saved Finn's life," Kurt said, the realization washing over him.

"Oh. Yeah. I did." Blaine blinked.

"We're in the Hunger Games, and you saved his life. If you'd just let him die, I never would have known it. I never would have known you knew how to save him and I wouldn't have blamed you. But you saved his life." Kurt swallowed. "Thank you."

Blaine smiled at him. "You're welcome."

"I'm going to go get Finn's staff," Kurt said awkwardly. Blaine nodded, and Kurt walked off.

Finn hadn't dropped it far away, but Kurt needed the moment just to breathe and to think. Because Blaine saved Finn's life. Why? Was it part of his strategy? Probably. Blaine needed Kurt and Finn right now just as badly as they needed… well, not him, because they had each other. But Blaine definitely needed Kurt and Finn to make that raid on the Careers. And saving Finn's life had probably played well with the audience, especially having Kurt in his debt. It made sense. After all, Kurt couldn't get along without Finn yet, either. Not until they had more food.

Kurt pressed the bridge of his nose tightly. His ribs still hurt and he was getting a headache, and he felt disgusting. He was hungry and thirsty, although not enough of either to risk dipping into their supplies, He missed his dad, he missed Carole, he missed Mercedes and the rest of his friends, he missed District 8. As poor and meager and miserable as it was, it was better than the Capitol and the Hunger Games. He was tired and he was angry and he wanted nothing more than to go _home_.

The staff was under his feet. Finn had made it last night when he was on watch. It probably wasn't that strong- it wasn't treated or anything, but it was straight and Finn had done a pretty good job on it. Kurt knelt down to pick it up and saw that Finn had cut names into it. _Burt. Mom. Puck. Rachel._ Kurt turned the staff slowly in his fingers. _Quinn. Mike. Tina._ All of New Directions names were there. Kurt ran his fingers over the cuts in the wood, but he couldn't find his own name.

"Kurt!" Blaine called after him, startling him out of his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Kurt said, standing up, the staff gripped in his hand.

Blaine appeared through the trees. He looked worried. "Good. I just wanted to make sure."

"I'm fine. Is Finn okay?" Kurt asked, falling into step beside Blaine.

"Sleeping like a baby," Blaine said with a grin. His grin faded. "It does mean that we aren't going to go anywhere for a while."

Kurt nodded. "Will we be able to move by tonight?" he asked, wondering if they should make some sort of shelter.

"Yeah. He'll probably only sleep for a couple of hours." They were back in the clearing now. Finn was still sound asleep. Kurt put the staff down next to him and touched his forehead. It was cool, with no signs of fever. He stepped back and sat down with Blaine, across the clearing so they could see Finn but talk without waking him. They had time to rest, and Kurt figured they'd better take it while they could.

***

"So, Wes got the District home to let us sing there. You'd think that would be an easy gig, right? Well, let me tell you, orphans are a mean little lot. One actually threw a rock at me, right in the middle of my solo!"

"Don't make me laugh," Kurt begged, holding his side. "Please."

"Right. The ribs. I'm sorry." Blaine sat back against a tree. They'd been talking for what was probably an hour, although the time had flown by. "Do they still hurt?"

"Let's not talk about that." Kurt looked down at the ground where he was tracing patterns in the dirt. "You talk a lot about Wes," he said slowly.

"Well, he is kind of on my mind right now," Blaine pointed out.

"Yes. But were you guys just friends? Or were you…." He didn't know why it mattered.

"Were we boyfriends?" Blaine finished with a little laugh. "No. Definitely no. Not because of me," he added hastily. "But Wes isn't into guys. I had a crush on him after he won, of course, but…" Blaine shrugged. "We're better off friends anyway."

He said it so simply and casually. "Can you really just say that?" Kurt asked. "Out loud like that, in District 10 I mean?"

"Not all the time," Blaine admitted. His eyes narrowed a little as he watched Kurt's reaction. "You can't in District 8, can you?"

Kurt shook his head. "Not really. Not like that. I am the only kid I know who does."

"Ouch." Blaine reached out and took his hand. The contact sent a pleasant shock up Kurt's arm and through his spine. "I wish you hadn't had to go through it alone."

"I wasn't completely alone."

"Alone enough," Blaine said astutely.

Kurt nodded. He was aware that their fingers were still twined together, and that Blaine was sitting so close to him. This close, he could see the color of Blaine's eyes clearly and how they were framed by thick, dark lashes. He was gorgeous, at least in Kurt's opinion, and Blaine was looking right back at him. Openly. No disgust, no hesitation, just acceptance for everything that Kurt was.

He knew it was going to happen a split second before it did. Blaine shifted position and leaned in, paused, slid his fingers over Kurt's cheek, and then kissed him. His lips were gentle but firm, and at the touch of them, Kurt threw every caution to the wind, just for a moment, and let himself be kissed.

Blaine rocked back, his eyes on Kurt's face, measuring his every reaction. "You okay?"

"Yes," Kurt said, a little breathless. "I'm fine."

"Good." Blaine leaned in and kissed him again.

***

"DAMN IT, PORCELAIN!" Sue punched the tureen off the table as she watched Kurt and Blaine kissing on the television. "I told him! I told him not to get tangled up! His _brother_ caught on! If Lurch can figure it out, you'd think-" she cut herself off with an inarticulate scream of rage.

"It's just a kiss," Julius said. "And I'm sure it's playing well in the Capitol."

"It's not just a kiss." Sue kicked a chair. "It's a disaster."

Julius looked up at the television. "It's raining again, and that just woke Finn up. The Careers are at their home camp and the other tributes are spread out. It's a lull, and they're going to call for us."

Sue scowled and took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. She had to play this to her advantage if she wanted to nail down any more sponsors. What they had already would help, but she needed more.

Julius pressed his ear piece. "Right," he said, in response to a summons. "We'll be right down." He looked up from his clipboard. "Let's go, Sue."

It had been years since her own Games, but Sue still had that feeling of being herded in moments like these, moments when she had to be on television discussing her tributes. Raven fell into step beside her, adjusting her makeup as she walked. Sue batted him away, but he persisted.

"Come on," an assistant with blue skin and purple hair said, gesturing frantically to the studio door. "We're in a slow spot and they want you on _now_."

"Cool it, Blueberry," Sue said. "I'm there."

This studio was smaller than the big stage used for introducing tributes. Sue didn't often end up in this one, because these interviews and commentaries were only for when your tribute was doing something interesting. Hers were usually dying. It was a plush place, with lots of light blue velvet and brown wood, as well as a television screen to show footage on. There was a studio audience of the lucky layabouts who had gotten tickets. Caesar Flickerman was already seated on a stool, with Wes Graven from District 10 on one side. Wes was a young kid, but there was something sharp in his eyes. He watched Sue coolly as she entered. Caesar smiled at her and gestured for her to sit.

"And we're on in five, four three, two…" the camera man mimed the one and pointed.

"Welcome to the two o'clock commentary on the Games!" Caesar said happily. "And what a Games we've been having! For those of you who might have missed it- and why would you miss anything during these early days of the Games?- we've got a fantastic recap for you." The screen flickered to life, and Kurt and Blaine were sitting together. _I wish you hadn't had to go through it alone_, Blaine said again, and then leaned in to kiss Kurt. The audience sighed.

"What a move," Caesar Flickerman said. "And what a strategy." He turned to Wes. "Was this your plan all along, to form an alliance with District 8?"

Wes nodded. "We felt out a couple of different tributes, but Blaine had a real connection with Kurt. It was something we knew he could use. The best alliances are the ones that would work outside the arena, where the trust and the good feeling is genuine."

"True, true!" Caesar said. "But the kiss. Tell me about that. Was that in the plans as well?"

Wes's face contorted for a minute, and Sue sat up, interested. "Yes," Wes said, but it was clear to Sue that it was a lie.

"Of course," Caesar said, "because how else are you going to get between an alliance of brothers? You need a really big connection to trump family, and I can't think of anything that would work better. Brilliantly played, and I think we can expect some great things from District 10 now that you're mentoring." Wes looked down at his knees. "Sue," Caesar said, turning to her, "we know that Blaine initiated the alliance, but from what I'm hearing, your boys were aware of the possibility."

"Well, Caesar, we were certainly aware," Sue said. "I've got to say, Blaine was kind of obvious in his attempts. He can use my boys, that's true, but my boys can use him as well. Kurt knew that Blaine was either interested or pretending to be interested, so he went with it." _That's one way to put it_, she thought sourly, but made sure her face reflected nothing but confidence.

"I have to say," Caesar said, "after watching that kiss I've been wondering how much of that sweet vulnerable virgin act from the interviews was just that- an act." He nudged her. "Care to enlighten us?"

"I'm pretty sure that would destroy the mystery," Sue said. She winked. "I think that's one of those questions we need to see how it plays out."

"Such a tease," Caesar said. "But how do you think this will affect Kurt's alliance with Finn? Will it get in between them? If Kurt has to make a choice, who will he choose?"

"Well, Caesar, I think that's going to depend on the situation," Sue said. "This is the Hunger Games. It's not who does he love more, but who can he get more out of? And that goes for Finn, too. There may come a point where Finn has to pick Blaine over Kurt simply because it's the better decision if he wants to win."

"Excellent point. This has been fascinating. Ooh! I see that we're having some action in the arena. Sue, Wes, thanks for joining us, and let's go back to the arena to see what's going on with our District 7 tribute."

The camera cut, and the television screen shifted over to broadcasting the live feed of a girl being cornered by a pack of golden fluffy squirrels. Caesar slid off the stool and shook Sue's hand, and then Wes's. "Good show," he said, sounding a lot more normal. "I'll call you if we need you back in the studio." A cameraman called for him, and Sue was left alone with Wes.

"What the hell is that tribute of yours doing?" she asked Wes through clenched teeth. "It's not bad enough these kids have to die, but you have to fuck with their minds as they do it?"

Wes glared back at her. "I didn't tell him to kiss him. In fact, I was pretty damn clear in my instructions. I told him not to get attached, because alliances can't last. It's _your_ tribute who's fucking with mine."

"Well get it through his head that it's a bad idea for both of them!"

"And how am I supposed to do that? It's not like I can cup my hands around my mouth and shout, 'hey, Blaine! Stop the kissing!'"

He had a point. Sue rubbed her forehead with her knuckles. "How far is he going to go?" she asked resignedly. "How badly is he going to screw my kid over?"

Wes shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. I told you- I told him not to do this. But if it's any help, Blaine's never had a boyfriend before. He's not some great lothario that's using sex to get what he wants out of Kurt." Wes frowned. "I think. I don't know. He's a good performer, but I know Blaine. He looked _happy._ If you want the truth, I think he kissed Kurt because he wanted to, and no other reason."

Sue studied Wes more closely. He was a bright kid, but he was still a _kid_. Not even twenty yet, she realized. And this kid was being asked to keep another kid alive, and from the way he talked, they might even know each other personally. They might even be friends.

Victors either got harder or they broke. Standing there with Wes, watching his reaction, Sue was completely sure that if Blaine died in the arena, Wes was going to be one of those victors that broke.

***

The coverage that night included both Finn's sting and Kurt and Blaine's kiss. Burt frowned as he watched both.

"Get it, Hummel," was Puck's response as the kiss played.

Mercedes whacked him in the arm. "It's a ploy, idiot. Blaine's using him."

"It is not," Puck insisted. "Blaine wanted him. He's got a game going, that's for sure, but he wants Hummel for real."

"Thank you for that commentary, Puck," Carole said dryly. Burt glared at him, but then turned back to his thoughts.

The apartment wasn't full tonight. Burt and Carole had decided to see to that. Instead, it was just the two of them, Will Schuester, Puck, Mercedes, and Santana. "Turn it off," Burt said. "They're safe for right now."

"So what's up, Mr. H?" Puck said, lying back on the bare floor and propping himself up on his elbows.

"Yeah, you sound like you've got something on your mind," Mercedes said.

"Yeah, well, maybe I do." Burt leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. "Carole and me, we've been talking a bit. And we're starting to think that maybe the time's come for another try at getting rid of the Capitol."

"What?" Mr. Schuester looked alarmed. "Burt, Carole. Are you talking about an uprising?"

"Yeah. We're talking about an uprising."

"I'm so in," Puck said immediately.

"But… but…" Schuester looked worried.

"Speak up, Schuester," Burt said. "That's why I asked you in on this. You won't screw us over, but you'll tell us if it's a bad idea."

"It is," Will said, spreading his hands. "District 13."

"They can't destroy us like they did District 13," Carole said. "They'll be without fabric in a matter of weeks. And that won't go over well in the Capitol."

Will closed his eyes. "Maybe they won't destroy us right away, but they will eventually. Once they've got some other system set up."

"Where are they going to set it up though?" Puck asked. "You see those asses in the Capitol sitting at looms or working the cotton mills any time soon? And the other Districts have their hands full. They destroy us, they're only hurting themselves."

"There have been uprisings before," Santana said. "The District has gone on."

"Yeah, but the people haven't," Mercedes said. She looked at Puck. "If you do this, you're going to be leaving your sister and your mom on their own. They'll kill you, Puck. Or even worse, they'll kill them."

"A bullet hole in the head is better than Sarah being sent to the Games," Puck muttered, and Burt shivered.

"Or," Mercedes added, "you can bet that Sarah will be the tribute sent to the Games next year. I'm sure they rig those drawings."

"Whatever," Santana said. "I'm definitely in. You know that."

Burt did. Santana was from one of the poorest parts of the District. Puck was always up for a fight. He knew that those two would be willing. "What about you, Mercedes?"

Mercedes sighed. "Don't get me wrong, Mr. Hummel. I want to. And I'm real mad about what they're doing to Kurt. But I am worried about what Mr. Schuester said about the Capitol taking it out on the rest of the District." She frowned. "But I think there's a lot of the District that will go along with it. We could talk to some of the people in the factories. The mills, especially. And some of the other tributes' parents. Not just the ones from this year, but the ones from last year."

"You know," Puck said thoughtfully, "if we could get everyone out, it would be really, really easy to start a fire in a cotton mill."

Santana nodded. "Get all the people out, get a bunch of Peacekeepers in. You'd need someone willing to die to serve as a decoy, get Peacekeepers to chase them in."

"No you wouldn't. There's a trap door in the spinning room," Carole said. "It's an exit that the management doesn't know about. They put it in after mill number four went up and no one would do anything about safety."

"Wait. You guys are really talking about burning people alive?" Schuester said.

"They've taken my boys and are torturing them on screen, making them kill each other," Burt said. "Yeah, we're talking about burning people alive."

"Wow. Wow, okay." Schuester looked a little taken aback, but then nodded. "Okay. I just… I don't want to lose sight of that, you know? Otherwise we're just as bad as them. And what you're talking about- it's a pretty brutal plan."

"Why shouldn't it be?" Puck asked.

"We'll keep our humanity," Carole reassured Schuester. "But we can't win without being brutal. We don't even have a chance."

Will nodded, and Burt saw the capitulation in his eyes. "All right," Burt said. "Let's plan this."


	7. The Theft

The anthem played, and then the faces flashed in the night sky that was visible through the canopy of trees. Kurt, Finn, and Blaine were positioned at the edge of the forest, the vast expanse of meadow only twenty yards away. Finn was peering up at the sky. "Only two down today," he said. "It's weird to see it from here."

Blaine looked up as well. "Hope our faces aren't up there after this."

"Cheerful thought, Blaine," Kurt said. He was determinedly not looking up, but perched on a low pine branch and tying the bag up in a tree. "There."

"We ought to have a way to mark this so we can find it again," Finn said.

"Any suggestions on how we can do that so we can see it and they can't?" Kurt asked sarcastically.

"Dude, you're cranky when you're hungry."

"No, I'm cranky when my ribs hurt and I'm trapped in arena where everyone is trying to kill me."

"_We're_ not trying to kill you," Blaine said.

"Right now."

"Wow. You _are_ bitchy."

Kurt sighed and eased himself down the tree. "Let's stop arguing about my supposed mental state. The bigger question is, if we get turned around, how do we make sure we're getting back to the same spot we started?"

"The mountain's right over there," Finn said. "Right across from us. That at least gets us in the right direction. I think that's the best we're going to do, Kurt. Besides, if this goes right, we'll have a lot more stuff."

"And if it goes wrong, we'll be dead," Kurt said by way of agreement.

Finn frowned and stretched. He wandered off into the woods for a moment, leaving Kurt alone with Blaine.

"Kurt?"

"Mmm?"

"Listen." Blaine shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know what's going to happen tonight. I mean, we're taking on the _Careers_. That's big. And I know Finn and I are trying to just be optimists about it, but I know you're right, too. And I just want you to know that this morning, in the woods? Before the rain?"

"The kissing?" Kurt said, glad that the darkness hid his blush.

Blaine nodded. "The kissing," he said. "That was real for me."

Somewhere deep inside, something in Kurt leapt up in joy. "It was real for me, too," he said.

Blaine took a step closer. "Can we? Just once more?" Kurt nodded, and Blaine slipped his arms around him and pulled him close. Both of them were filthy and sweaty and completely ungroomed, but Kurt closed his eyes and let the kiss transport him out of the arena, just for a second.

"You know, if I was another tribute, I could have killed you right now," Finn said crossly, emerging from the woods. "I'm not trying to be a jerk, but could you guys be a little careful?"

"Sorry." Blaine pulled away, and then brightened. "But at least it will play well in the Capitol."

"Oh my god," Kurt said, his hand going up to his mouth. "I've completely forgotten about the cameras. My dad saw all of this." Finn frowned. "What?" Kurt said. "He can't kill Blaine." The joke fell flat.

"No, that's not it. I was just thinking," Finn said. "Unless there's a death tonight, the cameras are probably on us, aren't they?"

"Probably," Blaine said. "We're taking on the Career pack. Why?"

"Well, it's just you said you sing, and Kurt and I sing. So if the cameras get us, it might stand us a shot at getting sponsors, right? Some sponsors like that sappy sort of stuff. And it could be, like, a last thing for our parents to see."

"And if they don't get us?" Kurt asked. "Or they don't show it?"

Finn shrugged. "We get to sing together again. Last song. What does Rachel call it? Swan song- that's it. But seriously- if we can make them cry they'll be dying to send us stuff."

"Finn Hudson, I had no idea you could be so emotionally manipulative," Kurt said, lighting up.

"Is that a good thing?"

"Right now it is. Let's do it."

It turned out to be harder than they thought to find a song because there wasn't much musical overlap between the Districts. That, more than anything that had been said the entire time, drove home to Kurt how little communication was allowed. But finally they found an old slow song that fit the mood. It was a simple melody, but that was just as well, too. They sang it together softly, their voices blending better than Kurt would have imagined.

"Well," Blaine said, when they were finished and the last of the solemn spell drifted away, "that out to put us in the highlights reel for sure."

They had saved the ashes from the fire they'd made earlier in the day, and now they rubbed them into their faces and hands. Kurt cringed at the thought of what it was doing to his skin, but even he couldn't deny the wisdom of the idea. As they darkened their skin, the mood darkened as well.

They weren't in the greatest shape. Blaine was unhurt, but between Kurt's cracked ribs and Finn's sore arm, they weren't going into this at their best. They didn't have that much for weapons. Kurt took the two knives, Blaine had his spear, and Finn had his staff. Each of them took a throwing star, although Kurt didn't think they'd be that useful. "I can't believe we're taking on the Careers with sticks and stones," he said.

"It won't be all the Careers," Finn said. "If there's more than two there, we turn around and try another time, right?"

"Right."

"All right. Let's go." Finn gestured with his staff, and they began to walk.

***

Finn was hungry. He tried to ignore it, but his stomach growled anyway. He hoped it would stop before they got near the camp, otherwise it was going to give them away.

They'd walked for at least a mile, but now they'd dropped to the ground and were crawling on their stomachs through the long grass. It was slow going, hard on the elbows and knees and really hard on Finn's arm, and just difficult in general to keep up for a long distance. But with no cover, they had no choice. The only way they had a chance at approaching the Careers' camp at the Cornucopia undetected was this way.

They stopped about fifty feet from the Cornucopia. The Careers had made their camp right at the base. Although it was the middle of the night, the full moon and some torches at the camp gave them enough light to take in the scene.

It looked like there was only one Career guarding the Cornucopia. One against three wasn't so bad. He was leaning against the Cornucopia, facing away from them. He was holding some weapon, but Finn couldn't get a really good look at what it was. Below the Cornucopia were two piles- probably one of packs and one of weapons. Finn looked over at Kurt, who gave him a thumbs up. Beyond Kurt he could just make out Blaine's shadow. They were as ready as they were ever going to get. Finn put up three fingers, then two, then one….

All three of them jumped up and ran as quietly as they could towards the Cornucopia. Finn had wished he could do a battle cry, but Kurt pointed out that the point of this was to get food. If they could sneak in and sneak out without encountering a single tribute at all, so much the better. But utter silence was impossible, and the tribute turned around. It was one of the District 2 boys- not Krev, but a boy named Raze. "Shell! Get over here!" Raze yelled, and _shit_, there was another guard that they hadn't seen. The girl that came running up had a sword.

Kurt and Blaine were headed straight for the Cornucopia. Finn realized that if he didn't head off the tributes, they'd never get there. He gave up on stealth and ran as fast as he could, and was able to strike Raze firmly in the back and send him sprawling across the ground before Raze got to them.

Raze flipped over and popped up to his feet- just popped up- and closed in on Finn, a smile on his face. The weapon in his hand was a morning star. He swung the star, and Finn dodged. It was the first advantage that Finn felt like he had in this fight; Raze was a good six inches shorter than him. He didn't have the reach. Finn feinted with his staff, but Raze didn't fall for it and instead swung again. Finn tried to jump back, but this time the morning star caught him on the shoulder, and he screamed as it exploded in pain.

Raze wrenched the star out of his flesh and away, and Finn felt blood flowing down his arm. But his arm still worked, and that was all he had time to register. Finn circled again, and this time when he attacked, Raze assumed that the blow was a feint and didn't block it. The end of Finn's staff struck Raze right in the solar plexus. He heard something crack, and Raze staggered back.

"Kurt!" Blaine shouted. "Watch out!"

Over Raze's shoulder he could see Kurt. He was almost to the Cornucopia, but Shell was right there in front of him. She swung her sword, and Kurt just barely managed to jump out of her way. He scrambled up onto the Cornucopia itself, which was the smartest thing he could have done. Shell tried to reach up for him, but Kurt was able to push her down. Blaine grabbed a sack of apples and threw it up to Kurt, and Kurt threw one in Shell's face as hard as he could when she tried to climb up after him.

That was all that Finn had time to see, because Raze rebounded. Finn swore to himself. He should have followed through and delivered a blow to the head. It would have knocked Raze out at the very least, and maybe even have killed him. Now, Finn had to get that damn morning star away. Raze swung again, and Finn just narrowly dodged, ducking rather than jumping out of the way. As he bent, he felt a pricking sensation in his ribs. The throwing star.

He'd never be able to throw it to kill- he knew that. He just didn't have the technique, and his shoulder was _killing_ him. But he could throw it to hurt, and right now, all he had to do was get the weapon away from Raze. Finn reached inside his tunic and grabbed the star.

From the Cornucopia, Kurt screamed.

_Don't look_ he ordered himself, because Raze was still coming at him. Finn retreated, spun back around, got his bearings and threw the throwing star as hard as he could. It lodged itself in Raze's arm, and this time, it was Raze that screamed in pain. And this time, Finn followed through, barreling at him. They collided in a crack of bone and flesh, and Finn grabbed the morning star and wrenched it out of Raze's hand.

Another scream from the Cornucopia, but this time it was Shell. Both Finn and Raze glanced over long enough to see that Blaine had attacked Shell from behind with his spear. The spear had broken off, and half of it was sticking out of her back. Shell now turned her attention on Blaine, and her sword was flashing in the moonlight. From what Finn could tell, Blaine was just trying to stay out of the way, using what was left of his broken spear to fend her off.

Allowing himself to be distracted was a mistake. Raze slipped away from him, running towards the Cornucopia. Finn _knew_ Raze was injured, but you'd never know it from the way he ran, strong and powerful. He leapt up and grabbed the huge golden horn, and in seconds had pulled himself up and pushed Kurt to the ground. Kurt landed with an audible thud. But he struggled back to his feet, still holding his knife in one hand but the other gripping his side. Raze jumped down, a dark smile on his face. He picked up a mace from the pile under the Cornucopia. A huge mace, the head as large as Kurt's head. Raze wasn't swinging it like it was nothing, but he was swinging with enough power to take out Kurt.

The sound of metal splintering wood got Finn's attention, and he looked away from the Cornucopia to see Shell advancing on Blaine, her sword increasing in speed. Blaine was backing away from the Cornucopia and blocking her the best he could with his broken spear, but he wasn't going to be able to keep it up.

Blaine on one side fighting for his life, Kurt on the other. Finn in the middle, only able to help one. It wasn't Kurt who was going to have to choose who he should save; it was Finn.

Some part of him said it made much more sense to save Blaine. Blaine wasn't wounded. Blaine wouldn't slow him down. And Blaine was pretty smart, smart enough, anyway. Together, they'd probably get far. But that all meant nothing when he saw Kurt swing his knife at Raze. He managed to draw blood, but it wasn't enough. Not even close.

Finn tightened his grip on the morning star and ran towards Kurt.

There were only two fights going on, and yet the sounds of battle were loud in Finn's ears, even over the roaring of blood and the pounding of his heart. He ran at Kurt and Raze, that same feeling he'd felt the other day overwhelming him. He was too far away. He wasn't going to get there in time.

But he did.

He swung the morning star, hard, his wounded shoulder screaming in protest. The flail connected with the side of Raze's head, spraying droplets of blood onto Finn's hands and making Raze scream. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't ever enough. Finn wrenched the flail free and swung again and again, until the boy's face was a bloody pulp and he slumped down to the ground.

In the distance, a cannon fired.

"Thanks," Kurt gasped. "Come on. We've got to help Blaine."

Raze's leg jerked. Finn stared at that leg for a long moment. Raze's leg jerked again, and then his hand twitched. "But the cannon fired," Finn said, staring at the wreck of the boy on the ground. "He's dead."

"Finn!" Kurt shrieked. "Run!"

He moved just in time, right before Shell could hit him with her blood-wet sword. He swung his morning star at her, looking around for backup. Kurt had grabbed two packs and found Finn's staff, which he was leaning on it as he looked around, calling for Blaine. And it was at that point that it hit Finn. That cannon hadn't been for Raze, even though Raze wasn't getting up anytime soon. And he had to get Kurt out of here, before Kurt realized it and fell apart.

He swung his morning star one last time, not aiming at Shell's head but at her midsection. He caught her in the side, and he heard the satisfying sound of bone crunching. She screamed in pain and rage and fell to the ground, but he had already gotten the weapon free and was running. He scooped up one more pack and ran, grabbing Kurt by the arm and pulling him after him. "We've got to get out of here," he gasped. A glance over his shoulder revealed that Shell wasn't getting up yet, although he was sure she was far from dead.

"Wait! Finn, we need to get Blaine!"

"No."

"Finn!" Kurt started to struggle. "We've got to-"

"Listen to me!" Finn shouted, grabbing Kurt by the arms. "If we run, we can outdistance her. I know we're hurt and it's going to suck, but if we run we can escape. Let's go!"

"But Blaine-"

"Blaine's dead, Kurt! That cannon was for him!"

In the moonlight, he could see Kurt's face lose any color that remained. He shook his head. "No. No, Finn, it can't be-"

As if to make his point for him, another cannon sounded. Raze was dead- Finn's first kill. The blood was warm on his hands, but he couldn't think about that now. "Come _on_," he ordered. "Shell's not dead, and she's going to come after us. We've got to go!" This time, Kurt didn't argue as Finn pulled on him.

They tried to run, but soon they had to alternate between running and walking. Finn kept glancing over his shoulder, but there was no indication whatsoever that Shell had followed them. It would be two against one, and although they were wounded, so was she. They were also much more heavily armed than they had been. She must have decided it wasn't worth it… for now.

They walked, by some small miracle headed in the direction of their things. Finn's shoulder hurt like hell, although it felt like the bleeding might have stopped. He didn't even want to think about what it looked like, especially as he remembered what Raze's head had looked like. Kurt was leaning heavily on Finn's staff, his breath rattling in his lungs. He'd also gotten a nasty cut on his right calf, but given that he could put weight on it, it seemed superficial. Occasionally a sob escaped him.

It felt like it took hours to reach the relative safety of the forest. Finn had no idea if it really was hours or just felt that way, but they reached the treeline before dawn broke over the horizon. When they were finally about a mile into the woods, Kurt fell against the base of a tree, gasping for breath. Just like after that first desperate flight from the meadow. Finn dropped the pack he'd been carrying and collapsed next to Kurt.

"You okay?" he finally managed to ask.

Kurt dropped his head to his knees. "No," he said in a muffled voice.

"Yeah. Me, neither." Finn tried to stretch his legs out in front of him. They'd tightened up and hurt, and he was exhausted. "We'd probably better move," he said. "We just went in a straight line. If Shell saw what direction we went-"

"Why did you save me, Finn?"

The question caught Finn off-guard, even though it shouldn't have. "Uh, because you're my stepbrother?" he said. "Look, I know we had an alliance with Blaine and all, but our alliance came first, because it's not just based on us surviving, you know? It might not be normal or anything, but you and me, we're brothers. That matters."

"He shouldn't have died."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't the one swinging the sword."

"You could have gone after him," Kurt accused. "You could have saved him."

"And let you die! I had to make a choice, okay? And when it came down to it, the choice was easy! I chose you! Broken ribs and all! Look," Finn said, knocking his head back against the tree, "be mad at me if you want, okay? I get it. But there was no way I was going to save him and leave you to die alone."

Kurt stared at him, anger etched on his face in the moonlight. But his lips started to tremble and his shoulders slumped, and before Finn knew it, Kurt was crying. Real crying, where his nose turned red and snotty and he didn't try to maintain any semblance of dignity. Finn sighed and put his arms around Kurt, pulling him so Kurt was lying on his chest. It hurt Finn's arm and it probably hurt Kurt's ribs, but they were beyond that for the moment, and Kurt cried into Finn's chest like his heart was broken.

Finn couldn't do anything but hold him, and as they sat his eyes grew heavier and heavier. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

***

The party for past victors was held in a stately pink building, in a small, intimate ballroom. Tickets were expensive and difficult to come by, and as a result the crowd was extremely wealthy. The food was amazing, and the alcohol flowed as the previous victors of the Hunger Games were on display for eager guests to meet. Sue hated victors' parties, but it was absolutely essential for a mentor to attend. It was the best way to get sponsors, and although she'd rounded up a few, the boys could use more.

An enormous television screen dominated one end of the room. There had been enough footage of the boys talking that everyone in the room knew that they were planning on stealing into the Career camp tonight. The betting was enormous, and although most people were favoring the Careers, some were favoring the brothers and their ally. The room was alive with a happy anticipation, especially when the ten of the twelve Careers left the camp to hunt. Between the Careers on the prowl and the boys stealing into the camp, there would be blood tonight. Sue watched with crossed arms, her attention half on the screen and half on the crowd.

She never would have thought that Finn and Kurt would actually take on Careers, even if it was sneaky like this. They had more guts than she'd given them credit for, she'd give them that.

"I can't decide," someone said beside her. "Is this a brilliant idea, or the worst idea ever?"

Sue turned to see Wes standing next to her. He looked incredibly nervous, the liquid in the glass he was holding sloshing as his hand shook. Sue took the glass away from him and put it down on the table.

"First rule of mentoring, Cowboy," she said. "Don't show them that you're scared. You can be concerned, but if you don't have faith in your tribute, no sponsor is going to, either." She clapped Wes on the shoulder. "Let's see how your boy does, shall we?"

The hunt was boring, but the fight at the Cornucopia was a good fight from a sponsor point of view. They were all slobbering over it, gasping as a tribute was injured, cheering as another one landed a blow. Sue was used to it, but Wes looked horrified at the response of the guests.

"How can they do that?" Wes asked when Blaine viciously stabbed Shell with his spear and a cheer went up. "A lot of them are rooting for her."

"Because they're just thinking about their bets," Sue said, keeping her voice down. "They aren't thinking that those are five kids out there, just that this is good entertainment."

Wes pressed his lips together and nodded.

It was a long fight given that it was two Careers versus three tributes from Districts that rarely did well. A lot of money changed hands, for first blood, for who would be disarmed, for what weapon would be used next, for if Kurt would get up the horn or not, and for the first death. And that first death…. The camera was perfectly positioned to catch Shell's killing blow as she raised her sword above her head and then sliced it down through Blaine's neck and shoulder and well into his chest. The cannon fired almost immediately. Wes's anguished cry was lost in the sea of cheers and groans.

"Hold it together," Sue ordered, grabbing his arm. Wes tried to jerk away from her, but she tightened her grip, her eyes still on the screen. Finn and Kurt had several packs now and were running. Another cannon fired, indicating Raze's death, and they saw Shell try to give chase, but the boys outdistanced her fairly quickly.

"Well done, Sue!" Augustus, her biggest sponsor, pounded her on the back. He was the first of many. Others crowded around her, shaking her hand and congratulating her. A lot of new faces, Sue noted with savage gladness, and a lot of new money. She bent her mind completely to the task of securing it, of smiling at these fat pigs and agreeing how amazing the fight was and what a show.

It was an hour later when she found Wes, sitting outside in the garden alone, his head cradled in his hands. He was done crying, thank god, because Sue couldn't stand that, but his entire posture was miserable.

"You did what you could, Cowboy," Sue said, leaning against the door. "You did a good job."

Wes looked up at her, his eyes red. "He was my friend, Sue. One of my best friends."

"You can't get attached to them. It's like making pets of the cows before you send them to slaughter."

"I already was attached!" Wes shouted at her. "We've been friends since I was ten and he was nine! And I couldn't save him! All I could do was stand there and watch!"

Sue shrugged. "Welcome to being a mentor." She sat down next to him. "I didn't see you last year. This is your first one, isn't it?"

Wes nodded.

"Well, I wish I could tell you it gets easier, but it doesn't. You just get harder. Tell me something. How many tributes did you kill in your Games?"

"Four," Wes said. He glared at her balefully. "One of them was yours."

"Yeah?" Sue had to think about that. "That's right. You got Kara."

"You really didn't remember that?" Wes asked incredulously.

"Nope. But I can tell you exactly how many tributes I killed in my own Games, which, by the way, was five. Gotcha beat." Sue nudged him with her arm. "Yeah, I didn't think it was funny either," she said when he didn't laugh. "I don't know what to tell you, kid."

"This is what I saved my own life for?" Wes asked. "This is what I compromised everything I believe in to do? To send kids into that arena and watch them die?"

"Yup. This and keep living. Ain't it great?" Sue asked sarcastically.

"It's not worth it," Wes said, shaking his head. "All the money, all the… I thought I could deal with it. I mean, I killed people, but I had to. And they could fight me. I thought it was over. I thought all I had to do was come to terms with it and I could have my life back."

"That is all you have to do. You're not the one sending those kids in there. You're the one helping them survive."

Wes shook his head. "I didn't help Blaine. I _couldn't_. And now I have to back to the District and face them, and then next year they'll put another kid in my hands and I-"

"You'll do what you can. There's only one winner in the Hunger Games. You know that as well as anyone. And you know, most victors just focus on the rich and famous part."

Wes shook his head. "I can't do this. I can't."

"Yeah, well, tell that to the Capitol. Last time I checked, you don't have a choice." She thumped him on the back and stood up. "Come on. We've got to get back in there. They're going to want to interview you soon."

"I can't go back in there. Not yet. Go in without me." Wes stayed sitting on the bench, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. Sue shrugged and walked back into the victor party. She quickly forgot Wes in the flurry of activity, her distaste for the guests, and her own exhaustion.

But the next morning, when she heard the rumor that Wes had been found dead in his room with a knife through his ribs, she realized she'd known he was going to do it all along.

***

Pain woke Kurt, just as the sky was starting to lighten. His face and his hands were ice-cold, but he was lying on something warm. He started to move and then stopped still, because his ribs were screaming that wasn't a good idea. He groaned and lay back down, back on that warmth beneath him. He was shivering and last night and Blaine's death threatened to wash over him. Images of Blaine smiling at him, of Blaine laughing and shouting and running… he drew a shuddering breath, closing his eyes again. He couldn't think about it. Not now.

He heard voices. For a moment he imagined it was his dad and Carole in the next room, and then the awareness washed over him and he froze. How could he have been so stupid? They just collapsed here in the forest, with no cover and no protection, just lying here asleep? It was a miracle they weren't dead already.

His knife was lying about two feet away. Kurt thought about reaching for it, but then thought better of it and stayed still. The voices were low and muffled, but he also noticed that whoever was walking was scuffing through dried leaves. They weren't Careers- Careers wouldn't hunt that carelessly. He stayed still until they passed and for a long time after, hardly daring to breathe. When he was sure they were gone, he forced himself to sit up and shook his pillow awake.

"Finn. Finn. Come on. We've got to get up and go. Someone's nearby."

"What?" Finn rubbed his eyes. "Kurt? What-" he cut himself off with a hissing intake of breath.

Kurt paused. "You okay?" He glanced at where the flutterby sting was, but Finn's arm was back down to normal size.

"Not really, no." Finn was trying to move his right arm. "She got me with the morning star." He tore at his tunic with his good hand, and then his face went pale as he saw his shoulder. When Kurt saw it, his own stomach lurched painfully. The shoulder was marred with black clots of blood, and it looked like raw meat.

"We should wash it," Kurt said, trying to swallow down the bile that was rising. "I don't know what else we should do, but I know that much."

Finn frowned. "How much water do we have?"

"I don't know. We aren't near our packs." Kurt scooted over and opened the three new packs that they'd managed to steal.

The first pack was stuffed with food. Beef jerky, crackers, cheese, tin canisters, apples, and even two oranges. It was exactly what they'd gone after, but Kurt set it aside. Right now, it wouldn't help. The second pack contained a black sleeping bag, a small flashlight, a patch of canvas that was probably meant to form a tent, a fire-starting kit, and a pot. Great, but useless now. With bated breath, Kurt opened the third pack. Two bottles of water and more food. He let his breath out, and then regretted it, because breathing really _hurt_, and handed one of the water bottles to Finn.

Finn looked at it and frowned. "I don't know if I can do this," he said. "Not without wasting a lot of it. Can you…?"

He didn't want to. Seeing his own blood was bad enough, but seeing that disgusting wound made him sick. Kurt had been thinking about conveniently disappearing while Finn took care of his shoulder, but the problem was, Finn was right. "All right," he said. He cut a square from the canvas and then several long strips that they could use as bandages, and then wet the square with the water. He knelt behind Finn tentatively, trying to remind his stomach who was boss. Up close, the wound was even more disgusting. He picked up the square of cloth and began to clean Finn's shoulder.

"Fuck!" Finn pulled away and then remembered others might be around. "That hurts!" he whispered, glaring over his shoulder at Kurt.

"Well, I apologize for not being a trained medical professional!" Kurt snapped back. "If you would just hold still and keep your voice down, we could do this without telling everyone exactly where we are!"

"Well, if you were a little gentler, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much!"

"I barely touched you!"

"You practically mauled me!"

"I didn't-" a flash of silver caught Kurt's eye, and he stopped mid-sentence.

"What's that?" Finn asked.

A little silver parachute landed in front of them, with a small parcel attached. Kurt leaned forward and snagged it, and for a terrible, horrible moment, he thought this might be the signal from Sue. But when he opened it he found a rather sizeable vial labeled demoralen and a spoon. Kurt had heard of demoralen before, although it was very expensive. It was a mid-level pain-killer that wouldn't completely block out all pain but had the upside of leaving the mind clear, and a spoon. Definitely not a gift that seemed useless. Kurt judged that there was enough for ten doses in the vial, if they were supposed to take a spoonful. Not only would it help with the task at hand, it would help with his ribs as well. He sat back, a smile spreading over his face.

"This must have cost Sue a fortune," Kurt said, staring at the vial in awe.

"Yeah, well, we did good last night, I guess," Finn said, and he was grinning, too.

Last night. Kurt's hands shook. Finn turned around at his silence and caught him. "Hey," he said. "Stay with me, okay? Come on. You've got to do this. I can't do it myself."

They both took the medicine, which made them both even more nauseous until Kurt finally thought that maybe they weren't supposed to take it on an empty stomach. But the medicine worked quickly, and this time Kurt was able to touch Finn's shoulder.

It was gruesome work, but by the time he'd cleaned away the blood the wound looked better. At least it didn't look like it was getting infected. Kurt bound the shoulder up the best he could with the bandages he'd cut from the canvas, and by the time he was done, Finn at least had use of the arm. Finn returned the favor by replacing the burlap around Kurt's ribs with canvas. The skin on his torso was scratched raw and hurt horribly, but compared to the pain underneath it was nothing. A little more luck was with them in that the cut on Kurt's leg was shallow.

"We really got lucky," Finn said. "It should have gone worse."

"We lost Blaine," Kurt said, sharper than he intended. But Finn looked so damn _happy_, like they'd lost _nothing._

Finn frowned. "Yeah," he said. "But the alliance had to end. At least this way we did what we could, and he died fighting. That's something, right?"

"Right," Kurt agreed hollowly. He bent over slowly and picked up one of the packs. "We'd better find a place to hide for a bit," he said. "At least until we can figure out what we're going to do next."

"Good call," Finn agreed. He looked tired. His face and hair were filthy, he still had dried blood on him, his clothing was torn, and he had various bruises, cuts, and scratches that neither of them had bothered attending to, as well as the burlap bandage still on his arm from the flutterby sting. He held his hand out to Kurt, looking nothing like the hero Kurt had once imagined him to be. But as Kurt took his hand and hauled Finn to his feet, for one brief moment, he remembered what it felt like to feel safe.


	8. The Signal

The mood in District 8 was grimly triumphant.

Will watched the kids in the school, who were all energized by the fact that not only had Finn and Kurt survived another night, but they'd taken on the Career pack and _won_. True, they'd lost their ally and that was terrible. But then, that was one more tribute down, and one more step closer to one of them winning. And if Finn or Kurt won the Hunger Games, it meant a better life for everyone for the next year. Usually, District 8 tributes didn't make it much past the first day. And usually they didn't get gifts like pain medicine.

It didn't make watching any easier, though, Will thought as the school turned the televisions on for the lunch hour. In fact, Will had a feeling that all this hope was going to make the fall worse in a few days. He kept his mouth shut about that, though.

It was a slow day on the Games, and as a result the station kept replaying the attack. There was something off about the constant replays and no interviews- Will had sat through enough Games to sense the different rhythm. It dawned on him around lunch time, as the teachers watched in the cafeteria with the students.

"They haven't interviewed the mentor for District 10," he said to Mercedes, who was watching next to him. "Don't they usually do that by now?"

"Yeah. What's up with that?" Mercedes looked extremely perplexed.

They found out right before the lunch hour ended, when Caesar Flickerman came on. "It's a sad day here in the Capitol," he informed them, "and a sad day for the residents of District 10. Tragedy almost struck today when the Gamemaker Hamish Quently was attacked by a fan who was most disappointed in the outcome of the opening day. Fortunately for Hamish, District 10 victor Wes Graven was standing nearby and gave his own life to protect him."

"It was terrible," Hamish Quently said into the microphone shoved in his face. "He just came right at me, something about how much money he'd lost."

Caesar winced sympathetically. "Let's let this serve as a reminder to all our citizens to only bet what you can handle. And thank you to District 10 for the sacrifice that saved one of our citizens." He abruptly veered off to another topic, leaving Will and Mercedes staring at the television.

"Mr. Schuester?" Mercedes said. "Does it seem a little strange to you that the District 10 victor died right after his tribute did?"

"Yeah," Will said slowly. "It does. And that they're not giving it more coverage."

"You don't think the Capitol killed him, do you?"

Will made a motion for Mercedes to keep her voice down. "I don't think so," he said in a low voice, and he meant it. "If the Capitol killed the mentor of every tribute that died, they'd run out of mentors really quickly."

Mercedes frowned. "Something's still not right. It's just too close in timing."

"It's the Capitol," Will sighed. "When is it ever right?"

"I've been thinking, Mr. Schuester," Mercedes said, moving in closer. "I've been thinking about what Mr. Hummel and Mrs. Hudson want to do. And the more I think about it, the more I think they're right. We can't just sit here and watch. We've got to _do_ something."

"It's not that simple, Mercedes," Will said, looking around nervously to make sure no one was listening to them. "And we're only one District."

"Yeah, but it's got to start somewhere, right? And Mr. Schue, they're going to _kill_ Kurt and Finn. I can't just sit here and do nothing. And what about you? You care about what's happening. I know it."

"I care, but-"

"But what, Mr. Schue?" Mercedes asked, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "You've had to watch so many of your students die. You're saying you wouldn't stick it to the Capitol if you could? They probably won't win, but maybe they'll start something that _could_ win. Someday."

Will rubbed his forehead, thinking not only about Kurt and Finn, but Celia and Emily and Molly and Seva and Trinh and Rom and… and the list just kept getting longer. And if he sat here, doing nothing, he'd watch the list grow each year, without ever speaking up to stop it.

"I don't know, Mercedes," he said. "Le me think about it, okay?"

Mercedes nodded. "Okay. I've got to get to class anyway. See you later, Mr. Schue." She slid off the table and scooped up her book and left the cafeteria for the classroom where she'd probably be turned in to another mill worker. Mercedes, with her beautiful voice and her dreams of something more, was just as doomed in her way as Finn and Kurt were in theirs.

It was foolish, Will knew that. Foolish and dangerous and a bad idea all around. But Mercedes had a point. How much longer could he let the list of murdered children grow and poison his own soul? He looked around the school, at all those kids, any of whom might be the ones in the arena next year.

Mercedes was right. Puck and Santana were right. Burt and Carole were right. This had to stop.

***

Kurt and Finn walked for half a day, deeper into the forest. Finally, they reached an area that they decided would work. It was on a small hill, so they had the higher ground if anyone found them. One of the poison streams ran nearby, like a little moat to their fortress. The trees in this area were as beautiful as the rest of the arena, but were also weeping willows. Huge trees, with long hanging branches.

"As long as they don't come alive and eat us," Finn said, dropping his pack. "I don't care where we are, I've got to eat."

"We both should," Kurt agreed. Aside from the crackers they'd eaten when they'd taken their medicine, neither of them had stopped for food at all. He dug into his pack and pulled out two of the little metal canisters. The one was potato soup and the other was stew. He tossed Finn the stew and opened the soup for himself and took one of the oranges as well.

"This would be a good spot to hole up for a while," Finn said, looking around as he ate. "We could do something with the trees and stuff, and, I don't know- just hide for a bit."

"It won't last long," Kurt said, but the idea of just resting for a bit appealed to him. And Finn looked so pale and tired, and Kurt didn't miss the way he favored his wounded shoulder.

They spent the afternoon weaving branches into a shelter of sorts. "Advantages of being from the fabric district, right?" Finn asked Kurt with a half-grin. Kurt tried to smile back, but his face wouldn't quite work right. Fortunately, Finn took it for exhaustion. They made light conversation as they worked, talking about the different foods in the Capitol and arguing about different songs that the could have sung in glee club. The conversation was superficial, and Kurt suspected that both of them were talking just to keep their minds off where they were and what they were really doing.

It rained when they were halfway through, replenishing their water supply. Both of them stood out in the cool rain, letting the water wash the dirt and blood away. Kurt was shivering when the rain shut off, but he felt much cleaner.

They made a fire and ate their evening meal together. In a way, sitting here together and just eating felt a little like home, even if Kurt's ribs were beginning to hurt badly again, and Finn kept a morning star and staff right beside him and only picked at his dinner.

Kurt looked at the morning star with distaste. "I thought you didn't like that one," he said.

"Yeah, well, it was one thing in the training center," Finn admitted. "It's another in the arena. Although it sure does do a number on people." He touched his shoulder and grinned ruefully. Kurt tried to smile back, but his smile still just wouldn't come.

The darkness fell, and with it came cold. They extinguished their fire, which Kurt immediately regretted. A sharp wind picked up, and he was grateful they at least had the protection of the trees.

The anthem played, and above in the sky the pictures appeared. First Raze, and then Blaine. Kurt stared up at Blaine's picture until it faded from the sky, a lump in his throat.

"Two deaths," Finn said quietly, surprised. "That's kind of slow for this early in the Games, isn't it?"

Kurt shrugged. "We should set watch," he said dully. "One of us can use the sleeping bag and the other-" he tried to stifle a yawn. He was tired- tired to the bone. "What?" he snapped. Finn was watching him with concern, but he looked even worse than Kurt felt. "Get some sleep," Kurt said. "I'll watch first."

"You sure?" Finn asked doubtfully.

"I'm sure. I'm not sure if I can sleep anyway."

Finn nodded. "Yeah. I get that. Okay. But make sure you wake me up."

"I will."

Finn unrolled the sleeping bag and climbed in. Kurt watched him shift around until he got comfortable, and then drop off to sleep within seconds.

There was a little light from the moon. Kurt wondered if it really _was_ the moon, or if it was some giant screen above them, and the Gamemakers gave them a full moon because they wanted them to be able to see. He wondered if there was a switch somewhere that they could just flip and it would be day all of a sudden. But the wind felt so real and no one had ever seen any sort of _wall_ or anything. They'd be able to see walls, wouldn't they?

Kurt sat back, leaning against the trunk of the willow tree, fiddling with the wedding ring he still wore on his little finger. _That was real for me_, he heard Blaine saying again. _Whatever happens tonight… that was real for me._ At the time, he'd just thought Blaine meant "whatever happens" meant if he died. But now he was wondering. Was Blaine planning to break the alliance himself? To take the packs while Kurt and Finn slept and leave? Or even to kill them both in their sleep? It seemed like a terrible thing to think of the dead and Kurt didn't want to believe it, but the answer really was _probably_. At least the taking the packs part. After all, wasn't that what he was going to do?

He suspected that Sue's signal was coming soon. When it did, if he wanted to live, Kurt had to kill Finn, take the packs, and hide. Outlast the others and wait it out. He knew what he had to do - planning it was easy. Actually doing it, though, that was going to be hard. Kurt had absolutely no illusions about that. He looked up at the sky as if that silver parachute would fall any second, but to his relief, nothing was coming. Maybe it never would. Maybe Sue would change her mind.

Right.

Despite the demoralen, his ribs were really beginning to hurt again. His stomach was growling and his head and leg hurt, and he missed his father so much that he really just wanted to cry. Finn slept on, and Kurt couldn't look at him because then he'd want to cry even more. He took a few drinks, picked up his knife and a branch, and began to whittle it down to nothing, just for something to do. But as he held the wood, an idea started to form. He turned it over in his mind for a bit, getting excited.

Maybe there was more of a chance than he thought.

***

Warm blood gushed over his hands, and yet he didn't stop. He didn't _want_ to stop, and Finn swung the morning star again and again. Each time, the heavy spiked ball landed in Raze's flesh with a squelching, crushing sound, and each blow only made him stronger. The taste of blood was in his mouth and yet he kept hitting, kept fighting, consumed only with the desire to _kill._ And when he stood over Raze's lifeless body, the only thing he could feel was a sharp, savage gladness.

Then he wasn't standing over Raze anymore, but Kurt. Kurt was struggling to get to his feet, bruised and bloody and broken, and Finn swung again and again. Kurt's blood ran down his arms, and Finn couldn't stop. Power flooded through him, and he knew he was winning.

"Finn! Finn!" Someone was shaking him, and Finn startled out of his nightmare to see Kurt, his face whole and unbloodied in the moonlight.

"What?" he asked, still muddled with sleep, his heart racing. Kurt was there. Whole. Alive. Not being beaten to a bloody pulp under his morning star. Not being beaten to a bloody pulp under Finn's _hands_.

"You were having a nightmare," Kurt said. "The way you were thrashing around, you were going to bring everyone down on us."

"Oh. Sorry." Finn sat up, groaned, and lay back down. His stomach was clenching and he was covered with cold sweat, and right now, with the dream fresh in his mind, he hated himself. "Do I really have to get up?"

"Not yet. It's only been a couple of hours, I think."

Finn cracked an eye open. Even in the dim moonlight, he could see the pain and exhaustion on Kurt's face. "You look terrible," he said, too tired to be anything but blunt.

Kurt shrugged, then winced as he jarred his ribs. Something about that recalled his dream, and guilt flooded him. Not because he'd had it, but because that look on Kurt's face made that dream only too easy to believe.

"You know," Finn said slowly, "if anyone ever came on us and we were both asleep, they'd just slit our throats."

"Thank you for that lovely image, Finn. I promise I'll stay awake."

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad way to go. If someone finds us right now, we're both too tired to fight. We'd be toast."

"Only if it was the Careers. We'd have a shot against the others. We'll be okay, Finn. I can keep watch."

"You're freezing." Finn bit his lip, the words sticking in his mouth, and then said it. "We could both fit."

Kurt's gaze was level. "In the sleeping bag. Together."

"Yeah." Kurt hesitated. "Don't deny it, dude. You're wiped." Finn opened the sleeping bag. "Come on."

With one last dubious look, Kurt nodded stiffly and slid in. He was cautious, trying his best not to touch Finn at all. If they were home in District 8, Finn would have appreciated it. Right now, he just didn't care. He laid back down, and inevitably, his body aligned with Kurt's. Finn shifted around to get comfortable, ending up with one arm over Kurt's torso.

"This okay? Or am I on your ribs?"

"It's okay," Kurt said, his voice tight. He squirmed a little, and then finally gave up and rested his head against Finn's shoulder. "You stink," he murmured.

"Like you should talk," Finn said. He was aware that he was basically lying in bed holding Kurt, but right now all that mattered was that they were both warm. Kurt's hair tickled Finn's cheek.

"Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"Why isn't my name on your staff?" It took a second to realize what Kurt meant, and he managed a smile.

"You know how gay that sounded, right?" he teased.

"Yes. Back in District 8, Puck just fell off his seat laughing so hard," Kurt said dryly. "I meant your weapon. You've got all these names carved in, but not mine."

"Yeah. Well, it's not like the people on there are with me, you know?" Finn said. "You are. If you die, I'll put your name on there."

"I don't know why I find that so inexpressibly comforting, but I do," Kurt murmured. "Thank you, Finn." His breathing evened out, and in seconds, he was asleep.

Finn waited until he was sure that Kurt was asleep, and then leaned down a little and kissed his forehead gently. It was dark and no one would see, but that wasn't why he did it. Finn wasn't the smartest guy in Panem, but even he could see that the time was going to come when they were going to have to break this alliance. Kurt knew it, too. Finn wondered if Kurt had dreams like he'd just had, about killing him. Worse, Finn wondered if Kurt had _plans_ to kill him. He looked at Kurt's sleeping face and shivered. Very likely. It was the Hunger Games, after all.

He thought of his mom at home, and of Burt. One of them had to get home. Finn didn't really think that it would be him and Kurt at the end in one of those big dramatic battles like the Games sometimes ended in, but Kurt was hurting. Kurt had cracked ribs and his mind had been on Blaine all day, leaving him demoralized and distracted. Finn didn't like to think it, but if he wanted a chance to get home, he might have to break the alliance himself, before Kurt slowed him down too much. But not tonight. Tonight they were still together, them against everyone else. Tonight Kurt was sleeping on his shoulder, his breathing shallow but his body relaxed as he nestled against Finn. And tonight he'd have at least one more memory of Kurt as his brother before Finn had to kill him.

***

"They're what?" Sue asked.

"Sharing a sleeping bag. Look." Julius gestured to the television screen. "Probably not a dry eye in the entire Capitol." Sue swore and got to her feet, pacing. "What?" Julius asked, watching her. "The sponsors are going to go nuts over it."

"The sponsors? You think I care about the sponsors right now?" Sue demanded. "Sponsorship can only do so much. They're getting too attached."

"They're brothers," Julius said. "That's always been the case." He studied her. "I know you're putting your backing behind Kurt, but he's not going to get too much farther without Finn. Not with those cracked ribs. If one of them is going to win, it's going to have to come down to the two of them."

Sue shook her head. "No it's not. I'm getting Kurt away now. There's no other option."

"Yes there is," Julius said. "Let them hide there and outlast the Careers. That's their best chance."

"Good lord, not only could your head be used as a bowling ball, it's also as thick as one," Sue said. "You think that's what's going to happen? Well, let me break it down for you, Shiny. Ever since they stuck it to the Careers, they've gone from 'random tributes' to the top of the grudge list. That won't stop the Careers from killing any other tribute, but they're going to be searching for the two of them. Because they've got an axe to grind. Because our boys made them look like fools. The Careers will be hunting them.

"The Gamemakers will let them have a hunt, but with Finn and Kurt hurt and holing up, you can bet that they aren't just going to let them sit there, nice and cozy. They're too popular in the Capitol and they're going to want to force that storyline. If Finn and Kurt try to sit there, they're just begging to have the Capitol unleash some horror on them to get them moving again. If that happens, they're both going to die. If they give the Capitol something in terms of breaking their alliance, the Capitol will move on to a better show and let them go for now. And maybe one of them will die, but the other one will live. And that's all that can live in the end, anyway."

"You might be right," Julius admitted.

"Of course I'm right," Sue snapped. "I'm always right. I'm getting them going."

"And how," Julius drawled, "are you going to do that?"

Sue smiled. "It's not hard at all."

***

It had been a long time since Kurt had imagined having to crawl out from under Finn Hudson's arm to get out of bed. As he did, he sourly thought that would rather still be sleeping on the two creaky beds in their shared room and bickering about who got to use the bathroom first than have had that particular dream come true. He was wondering what his father would say when the glint of silver caught his eye.

He was pretty sure that this time Sue hadn't sent him medicine.

Sure enough, when he opened the parcel attached to the parachute, there were two crackers. Crackers. Right after they had stolen quite a bit of food, two crackers were nothing. There was no questioning it. He stared at them for a long time, then closed the lid and stuffed the parcel and the parachute into his shirt. His stomach turned over and he felt sick, but this was the Hunger Games. You did what you had to do to survive.

Finn was still sleeping. Kurt took a moment to pee, and take some more of the demoralen, and then retrieved the smaller of the two water bottles from their bag. It was about three quarters full. As long as he didn't fill it fuller than that, Finn wouldn't notice a thing.

The forest was quiet as Kurt walked down to the stream. He wished he could slip into the stream and take a bath. His skin was oily and filthy, his hair was matted, and as Finn had said last night, he stunk. Kurt winced, because he didn't want to think about last night right now, especially as he came up to the stream.

He almost poured the water out when he remembered just how precious water was. He sat down and began to drink, crunching on an apple he'd brought along. The stream gurgled by his feet, crystal clear, cold and beautiful. Just looking at it made Kurt want to stick his head in and drink.

Finally, he'd finished the water and the apple, and he knelt down and very carefully filled the bottle to the right level. The water made the plastic cool to the touch, and he hoped Finn wouldn't be so observant as to notice that the bottle was cooler than it should have been. Well, he could always tell Finn that the night air had chilled it. He trudged back up to where they'd slept.

Finn was still sleeping. All he had to do now was go over, wake Finn up and hand him the bottle, and tell him to drink in his best I'm-taking-care-of-you voice. That was all.

Finn opened his eyes as Kurt approached. "Hey," he said blearily. "We're still alive."

"Always observant." Kurt knelt down. "How are you?"

Finn moved experimentally. "My shoulder still hurts," he said, closing his eyes against the pain. "But I think it's a bit better than last night." He looked up at Kurt. "Did you sleep okay?"

Four words. Four words that brought back last night in a rush. _Don't think_, Kurt told himself. _Don't feel. Don't be pathetically grateful for one night of comfort. Just do it._ But Finn was sitting there looking at him, his face earnest and actually _caring_ and being there during the worst time of Kurt's life without so much as a thought. He hadn't even carved Kurt's name on his staff because _they were together._ Because Finn didn't need to hold on to Kurt on a weapon, because Finn could hold on to _Kurt._ Because Finn had always been Kurt's hero, even when Finn had let him down so badly. Because Finn was his _brother._

"Don't drink out of this water bottle," he said, holding it up. "I filled it from the stream."

Finn stared at him like he was crazy. "Why would you that?"

"I have an idea. An idea that's going to help us win these Games." A wonderful lightness broke over him as he sat down next to Finn and pulled out the wooden darts he'd carved last night.

"What are those?" Finn said with a laugh. "Oversized toothpicks?"

"Darts. We can dip them in the poison and launch them at people. I haven't figured out the best way to do it yet, but we can- what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You," Finn said slowly, "are _amazing._"

And just like that, Kurt knew there was no way he could break this alliance himself. Not ever. He smiled at Finn, reveling in Finn's approval. "We got something else, too," he said, pulling out the parcel. Finn opened it up and studied it, confused.

"Two crackers?"

"It's not like they came with a card or anything," Kurt said, "but I'm guessing they're not from sponsors. Finn… I think they're from Dad and Carole."

Finn's eyes teared over. "You think? You really think so?"

"Or New Directions. Someone in District 8, anyway." It was a lie, but the touched gratitude on Finn's face made it worth it. "Come on," Kurt said, nudging Finn and holding up his cracker. "Cheers."

Finn took it with a smile. "Cheers."

Kurt knew that somewhere in the Capitol, Sue was probably raging at him, maybe even throwing things. But he didn't care. More than anything he knew that this was the right thing to do, the way _he_ wanted to do it, and Kurt Hummel was going to take the one luxury still affording to him and have some say in his own life and death.

***

"We didn't send those crackers, did we?" Carole asked tentatively.

"We didn't. Maybe it was someone from the school," Burt said.

Carole kind of doubted that. There were other possibilities, but gifts in the Games cost a lot, and Carole couldn't think of anyone who would spend that amount of money on the boys. Especially given the timing. She couldn't blame Kurt for thinking that it was sentimental- that was the only logical explanation. She desperately wished it was the right one.

Burt's eyes were locked on the screen. Carole wished she could tell what he was thinking, but his face was impossible to read. She sighed and stood up. The mills didn't stop just because the Hunger Games were on, and she was already flirting with being late.

When she came out of their room, Burt had turned the television off but was still sitting on the couch, rubbing his face. "Anything more?" Carole asked.

"Nah, they cut away from them about thirty seconds after you went in the other room," Burt said. "They were showing the Careers. I can't even look at them. I know they're just kids, but all I can think is that if they kill our boys, they're gonna enjoy it. Looking at them makes me sick." He sat back against the couch. "I'm _glad_ Finn killed that District 2 kid."

Carole made a small noise of what she hoped sounded like agreement. She had been ill- physically _sick_- after watching Finn kill that boy. The anger and the viciousness… that wasn't the son she knew. She was grateful he was still alive and she knew if he hadn't done it, he'd be dead right now, but that didn't mean she had to like it. She was _never_ going to like it.

"Are you going to talk to people at work today?" Burt asked.

"Usually do," Carole said lightly, and then sighed. "Yes. I'll see what people have to say. I don't know how much support we can get for an uprising, though. It just…" she shook her head. "I don't know. People only want to risk so much."

Burt shrugged. "Then they can all let their kids go to the Hunger Games, year after year. We're doing this."

Carole nodded. "All right. Be careful out there today, okay?"

"You too." Burt leaned in and kissed her. It was a brief kiss, an echo of how he'd kissed her before. Carole wished she cared. She smiled at him and cupped his cheek, and then they parted without another word.

***

The whispers whipped around District 8 like dried leaves dancing on the wind.

_Uprising, rebellion, fight back._

The mills hummed, spewing out cotton dust and covering the rumors.

_But what about reprisals? What if we don't win? The Dark Days, District 13…._

People retreated into their tenements and hovels, looked down and pretended they couldn't hear. A few slipped out, encouraged and emboldened, desperate.

The Capitol had murdered ninety-seven children from District 8, and was about to add two more. It wasn't that these murders were any more horrible or any more important than the ninety-seven that had preceded them; it was simply that they lit a spark that was ready to be released into the dry tinder that was District 8.

_Uprising. Rebellion. Fight back._


	9. The Meadow

It was late afternoon, and just a few more hours to go before they'd survived another day. It had been another very quiet day for Finn and Kurt, especially after the thrill of the crackers had worn off. They spent the day working on Kurt's idea of poison darts. They'd carved several, but they still couldn't figure out how to send the darts at people.

"I could prick them," Kurt said, "but that means I have to get close enough. And if I get in range on a Career, I'd probably end up dead before I could do anything."

"What about a slingshot or something?" Finn asked. "We could use some of the canvas that we have left."

"Not elastic enough," Kurt sighed.

They were sitting inside their little willow tree house. In here, it was easy to forget where they were. The sun was pleasantly warm overhead. They could hear birds singing, and Finn watched warily as one of those flutterby things landed on a distant branch.

"Finn? Are you listening?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry." Finn snapped back to attention. "What were you saying?"

Kurt sighed heavily, pushing his bangs out of his eyes with a dirty hand. "I was saying that we could take some of the ties from the bag. Maybe the drawstrings would-"

"Whoa. Did you see that?"

Kurt didn't look pleased at the interruption. "See what?"

"That squirrel jumped out and ate one of those flutterby things."

"Good. Glad something eats them." Kurt turned back to his slingshot. "If the drawstring doesn't work… wait a minute. Did you say a squirrel?"

"Yeah. It's right there." Finn pointed to it. It was golden blonde, like Quinn's hair, and sitting back on its haunches, watching them and twitching its nose. "Kind of cute, isn't it?"

"That's the first animal I've seen in the arena," Kurt said.

"Yeah." Finn frowned. "I'd think we should be worried, but it's a squirrel."

That got Kurt's attention. "You were bit by a _butterfly_. We've never had to worry about those before, either."

"Yeah. At least the squirrel doesn't seem to be doing anything," Finn said, shrugging. "Hey, what about if we put some more weight on these? Make them longer? You could make, like, mini-spears." But now Kurt wasn't paying attention. "Kurt?"

"Finn… is it just me, or is that squirrel watching us?"

Finn looked at it. "It is watching us," he said. "It's definitely watching us. It's kind of creeping me out, actually."

"It's definitely creeping me out," Kurt agreed. "Maybe we should move."

"Because of a squirrel?" Finn frowned. "I mean, it's not like it's another tribute."

"But they always put traps into the Games," Kurt said.

He had a point. "Okay," Finn said, grabbing his staff and getting to his feet. "I just kind of like it here."

"We can come back, Finn. Once the creepy fluffy golden squirrel is gone."

"Right. Should we take- wait."

"What?"

"Kurt, there are two fluffy golden squirrels watching us now."

Kurt turned. "Two?"

"No, now it's four." Finn's voice trembled. "I think we should back up very, very slowly."

"I think you're right." Kurt had his knife in one hand and the bottle of poison in the other. He began backing up until he was right next to Finn. They both moved slowly, eyeing the squirrels the entire time. The squirrels started creeping forward, and now there were ten. They had fangs, Finn realized, his heart in his throat and his hands starting to sweat.

"Finn?" Kurt asked nervously.

"Yeah, Kurt?"

"When should we run?"

The squirrels were hissing, prowling closer. "I think right now," Finn said, clutching his staff harder. "Run!"

They turned and ran.

"Finn!" Kurt shouted. "Over the stream! Maybe they can't follow us!"

"Good thought." Finn headed down the hill and picked up speed and hurdled the stream. Kurt followed, crying out as he landed on his bad leg. Finn reached out with his free hand and grabbed Kurt's arm, hauling him back to standing, and then started running again.

"Are they following us?" he asked.

Kurt glanced back. "The stream slowed them down a little, but they're- oh! They're jumping it!"

Finn hazarded a look himself, and saw that _more_ little fluffy golden squirrels had joined in the chase. They were swarming after them, and it was the scariest thing Finn had ever seen in his life.

"Where should we even run to?" he gasped. "Up a tree?"

"They're squirrels, Finn! Up a tree isn't going to stop them!" Kurt's voice was ragged. "Just keep running!"

They ran through the forest, dodging trees and jumping over rocks and logs and more poison streams. Finn's lungs were burning and his heart was pounding, and he could hear Kurt's breathing getting worse and worse. But every time he looked behind him, the squirrels were still swarming after them, and now they were climbing trees to try to get closer.

"The meadow. The meadow's right in front of us," Finn gasped, his eyes focused on that huge open space that he could see though the treeline. "Maybe if we get to the meadow we can-"

There was a shriek behind him. A horrible, terrible shriek that made Finn realize that Kurt wasn't at his side anymore. He spun around and saw that Kurt had tripped, sprawled out over the forest floor. A squirrel launched itself at Kurt and began chewing on his wounded leg. Another followed. Kurt kicked it and it went flying, but another immediately took its place.

He had thought he was going to kill Kurt, and here was the opportunity, but Finn didn't even hesitate. He ran back, staff at the ready, knocking the squirrels off Kurt. He reached down and grabbed Kurt's hand, yanking him to his feet. "Can you run?" he asked.

"There's no way I'm stopping," Kurt said. He had tears streaking down his face and blood running down his leg, but he surged in front of Finn. "_Run_, Finn."

They ran out into the meadow. The huge meadow, where there was no cover. But then, Finn thought, there were no trees that the squirrels could run up and jump off onto them. They kept running, even if it was more like staggering now. Finn had no idea how far they'd gone, but the treeline was far behind them now, and only getting further. They were putting space between them and the squirrels now, especially as the squirrels got slowed down by the long grass, but not enough.

There was something worrying about the direction they were running, but Finn's mind was too fuzzy with pain and fear to work it out. His breath wasn't even coming now- he felt like he was drowning. His head hurt, his lungs hurt, his stomach hurt, his legs hurt… he wasn't going to be able to do this anymore. But the prospect of being _eaten alive_….

Kurt fell again, rolling on the ground. "I can't, Finn," he gasped. His leg was bleeding heavily and he was gripping his side, and pain was written all over his face and his posture.

"I'm not going to let you be eaten alive," Finn said. He tried to haul Kurt up. "I won't."

"Just keep them off me then," Kurt said. He was fumbling with the water bottle full of poison. "I can't get away, Finn. I… just let me… it would be faster."

Finn wasn't sure if it was sweat streaming into his eyes or tears, but his vision blurred and he had to wipe at his eyes. He looked back at the squirrels. "Wait."

"No, Finn, I-"

"Wait!" Finn lunged forward and grabbed the bottle from Kurt's hand. "Look!" Kurt looked up. The squirrels had stopped. They were sitting up, alert, noses twitching. Finn waited, and to his surprise, the squirrels started running away. A hole opened up in the ground and the squirrels all jumped into it, just as if they'd been trained.

"They're letting us go?" Kurt asked.

"They're squirrels. I don't think they know what they're doing."

"I meant the Gamemakers. They-" Kurt cut off, bending over his leg in pain.

"Here. Let me see that." Finn knelt down. He still hadn't gotten his breath back, and he had to take a long moment to keep from throwing up on Kurt and get his stomach to cooperate again. As soon as he looked at Kurt's leg, any control he had and he had to crawl away for a long moment to vomit on the ground. It left him weak and shaking. He wiped his mouth on his forearm and sat back, trying to refocus his eyes. "Sorry."

"It's okay, Finn," Kurt said. "I feel like doing the same thing."

His leg was still intact, but it was just the look of it, the fact that something had _chewed_ on it. And on the front of Kurt's shin, where there was only skin, they could see bone. Kurt's breathing sounded funny, too- more like hysterical gasps than proper breath, and when Finn looked again he could see that Kurt was crying.

"Maybe I should drink this now," Kurt said, looking at the water bottle full of poison.

"No."

Kurt's face was incredibly pale. "Finn, I can't breathe right. When I fell, I must have…" he curled around his side. "Something snapped. I think that they're broken now, not just cracked."

"So we'll take our time," Finn said. "I'll help you. I'll carry you if I have to. We'll head back into the forest and find our packs and the demoralen, we'll get those darts ready, and then we'll go out there and kill some people, okay? No more waiting. We'll go fight. Come on." He leaned closer. "The cameras are on us right now, right? After those squirrels, they've got to be. You want your dad to watch you drink poison? After what you said when I suggested it?"

"Fuck you," Kurt said, but he started to pull himself up. Finn grabbed an arm and hauled him to his feet, even as Kurt cried out in pain.

"You okay? Your leg?"

"It hurts, but there's not much we can do." Kurt tore the hem off the bottom of his tunic, and then knelt down very carefully to tie it around his calf. "That's a bit better, although I really don't want to think about what all is on that shirt that can get into the wound."

"Okay. Let's go," Finn said. "Easy to see which way we came from."

Kurt frowned. "Too easy."

"Hey, let's not complain. Something's gone right for a change, right?" Finn had to walk slow, because Kurt's pace had really gotten slower. He looked around, trying to gauge how far it was to the forest. They must have run at least two miles. Of course, the problem with the meadow was there was no cover.

Kurt was thinking along the same lines. "We really should get down," he said. "Crawl again."

"You think your ribs can do that?"

"Absolutely not. I just said that's what we should do. The Career pack-"

Finally, Finn realized what he was worried about. They weren't far from the Cornucopia, and the Careers' camp. And that was why the squirrels had been called off. He stopped, grabbing Kurt's wrist.

"What?" Kurt asked.

"The Careers," Finn said. "Kurt, they drove us into the meadow to fight the Careers."

The little color that was left in Kurt's face left. His face was completely white. "Oh my god. Finn, we've _got_ to split up now."

"No way. If we split up, you'll die."

"You don't know that," Kurt said. "Maybe they won't find me. But if you run now, you've got a chance to get back there. Go get our packs and the darts, hole up and use the darts and get home."

"And leave you here to die alone. I promised-"

"This is the Hunger Games, Finn! Promises don't mean anything!"

"Would you stop it?" Finn demanded. "Stop the martyr act, all right?!"

"It's not a martyr act!" Kurt snapped. "It's a cold hard fact! If you want to live, you need to leave me here and get back! I'll get back if I can, but if we both stay out here, we're both going to die!"

"I'm not just going to leave you here!"

"You should! I almost killed you!" Two red blotches appeared on Kurt's cheeks. "I was going to poison you this morning!"

_Don't drink from this bottle._ Poison in a water bottle, ready to hand to him. Kurt wasn't talking idly- he really had been about to kill Finn that morning. For real. Finn stared at him, mouth open. Kurt flushed and looked away angrily.

"You were going to- what the hell, Kurt?"

"I had to!"

"Says who?" Finn kept staring at him, hurt beyond words. "We agreed it was you and me until someone took one of us out! Did you really think it would just be us at the end? That someone else wouldn't do it?"

"I don't know." Kurt wiped at his cheek. "No. Not really."

"You…" Finn paced angrily, wishing there was something he could just _kick._ "Then _why_? What was your big plan, Kurt?"

"I was going to…" Kurt took a deep breath and tried to steady his voice. "I was going to give you the bottle, take the packs, and hide for a while," he said. "I told myself at least this way it would be quick, and I wouldn't have to face you again after I left. That was the plan."

"The plan. Just your plan?" Finn asked.

Kurt shook his head mutely.

Sue. Finn should have known- he _had_ known. Sue had been betting on Kurt the whole time. Not because Kurt was strong or fast or anything like that, but because Kurt was _smart_. He was the one who came up with the idea to steal the Careers' food, he was the one who came up with the idea for the darts. Finn had just been a tool the whole time, something Sue could use to get Kurt home.

"The crackers," he said slowly. "The ones Sue sent. They weren't from Mom and Burt, were they?"

"I told you-"

"Stop it!" Finn shouted. "Stop lying to me! Who were they from?"

Kurt closed his eyes. "I'd already changed my mind when I showed you them," he said. "I wanted you to believe that because…"

"Because you wanted to believe it, too," Finn finished when Kurt trailed off. He shook his head. Because yeah, he could see that. From Sue, the crackers were a sign that Kurt had to kill his brother. From Carole and Burt, they were a sign that two people loved them more than anything else in the world. And through Kurt's lie, Finn had had the second for a while. And it had helped. He'd felt _happy_ when he'd eaten that cracker.

Kurt stood still, staring at Finn now. He had tears running down his face and blood on his skin, and he was filthy and scared. He looked young, and although Finn wanted to hate him, he couldn't. Because something deep and honest and good in him forced him to admit that not only would he have done the same thing, but he'd been thinking about it himself. Kurt had honestly thought that it was the best way, the _only_ way to get home. The fight started seeping out of him, leaving him feeling tired and drained.

"Why didn't you?" Finn asked.

Kurt looked surprised. "What?"

"Why didn't you? You asked me why I chose you over Blaine, so it's only fair, right?" There was a lump in Finn's throat and his eyes were stinging. "Why didn't you kill me?"

"For the same reason you picked me," Kurt said, still not looking at him. "I thought I could. I told myself it was the only way and that I'd live with it… but I _can't_. Every time I've needed you-"

"I let you down. I know." Finn had heard it before.

Kurt looked at him. "No. Every time I've needed you, you were there. Maybe not right away and maybe not how I wanted, but you were _there_. Last night you were there. And I just… I just couldn't…." Finn stared him down, not letting him off the hook, and Kurt's shoulders slumped. "You're my brother, all right?" he finally snapped. "I love you, and I couldn't kill you. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Just like that, the anger drained from Finn. "Yeah," he said quietly. "It is."

Kurt gaped at him. "You're serious."

"I am serious. Look, I don't think we're going to get out of here, Kurt. But if one of us does, that's what we've got to know. That's what's important, and what they shouldn't be able to take from us."

"I know."

"Come on then." Finn put his arm around Kurt, and Kurt gave up and leaned against him. "We can make it together."

"You don't believe that, do you?"

"Nope," Finn said. "And you didn't ask, but yeah. I love you, too." Kurt's smile was watery, but it was there.

They limped along. After a while, Finn had the impression that Kurt was regaining his equilibrium and recovering from the run, at the least, but he kept his arm around Kurt and Kurt didn't move away. In fact, he slipped his own arm around Finn's waist, not to support himself, but to support Finn. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Finn would have pulled away, muttering some excuse if someone- anyone- might be watching. Now he knew all of Panem was watching, and he couldn't even bring himself to care.

"Finn," Kurt said quietly. "Behind us." Finn turned and looked, and there, on the horizon, he saw them coming. Careers. He counted ten of them. "You killed Raze," Kurt said quietly. "I wonder who got the other one?"

"Not a clue."

Kurt looked up at him. "Are you sure you don't want to run?"

Finn snorted. "Of course I want to run," he said honestly. "But I'm not going to." Kurt gave him that look that Finn remembered, that look that made him feel like he was a hero. "This is going to sound crazy, but maybe we should just stop?" he said. "We're not going to make it to the forest, maybe the best thing we can do is get ready to fight."

Kurt nodded. "Finn? Thank you." He hugged Finn, and Finn hugged back, as tightly as he dared.

There wasn't much they could do to get ready. Finn stretched out his legs, which were tight from all the running. Kurt opened the bottle of poison and plunged his knife in. Finn watched, grinning. "That's vicious."

"Thank you."

The Careers were close enough that their faces were visible. Finn picked up his staff and braced himself. Kurt had the bottle in one hand and his long knife in the other. The two of them stood back to back in the meadow, the Careers closing in. Finn's heart was speeding up and his ears were ringing, and he swallowed hard. They were probably going down, it was ten against two. But damn it, they were going to give them a fight.

Ten Careers. Finn recognized Shell, who had her sword, and Krev, who had a big, heavy mace. The District 1 girl had an axe, another one had a spear, and the least terrifying weapon that Finn saw was a knife twice as big as the one Kurt was holding. And the two of them were armed with a stick, a knife, and a bottle of poison. Finn swallowed and wished he dared to fumble for Kurt's hand, but taking his hand off his staff could be fatal.

"You know," Krev said, smirking, "in District 2 they have a pretty specific punishment for stealing."

"Same with District 4," Shell said. "They cut off the thief's hands. Think we should start there?"

"I don't think we should let them go down easy, that's for sure," Krev said. He looked at the tribute standing to the right. "Let's make it a good show for the Capitol, huh? Shell and I will take them. All of us makes it over too quick."

"Krev," a girl from District 2 holding a sword said angrily, "let's make it quick. Come on."

"Besides," one of the boys said, "they're dangerous. They stole packs from us and killed Raze. They aren't getting away, but do you really want to take the chance that one of them is taking you down?"

"Yeah," the girl from District 1 said. "You want to be taken out by a tribute from _District 8_?"

"I won't be," Krev said, the cocky grin on his face making Finn resolve that even if they died here, he was taking Krev down first. "You ready, Shell?"

Shell grinned. "I'm ready."

Krev lunged.

Finn lifted his staff to block the blow and sidestepped the best he could. His back wasn't against Kurt's anymore, and that red hot anger that had flooded him when he killed Raze was rising again, tingeing his mouth with the taste of blood.

He wasn't great with the staff, and he knew that. But desperation kept him moving, blocking all of Krev's attacks. For a wild moment, he even thought he was doing well, until he saw Krev's smile. Krev was just toying with him.

He wanted to look and see how Kurt was doing, but he knew that was a bad idea. The best he could say was that he hadn't heard a cannon fire yet, and the Careers were shouting, cheering both Shell and Krev on. Krev upped his attacks, and Finn realized he hadn't just been holding back in number, but in strength. Finn's staff vibrated in his hands as it met with the mace, and Finn was suddenly very aware of how crude it was.

Krev swung for his head and Finn raised his staff to block it, and suddenly his knee exploded with pain as Krev hit it with the mace. He cried out, dropping down to the ground. His vision blurred and his world narrowed down to his knee, which threatened to overwhelm him.

"Finn!" He heard Kurt's voice from far away, panicked. "Finn! Get up!" He looked up and saw Krev coming for him, mace raced above his head and roaring as he ran at Finn to deliver the death blow. He fumbled for his staff and raised it, knowing that it probably wouldn't protect him, and closed his eyes as he waited.

There was an answering cry, and Finn opened his eyes to see that Kurt had gotten away from Shell. He stumbled at Krev and when he was close enough, threw the poison from the open bottle right at Krev's face, aiming straight for the mouth.

The liquid on his face stopped Krev dead. He must have been smart enough to realize it wasn't just water and he started spitting it out, but Kurt took advantage of his distraction and plunged his knife right into Krev's gut. He twisted the knife, blood running down his hands, and Krev's eyes bulged out of his face. A bubble of blood formed on his lips, and he fell heavily to the ground. In the distance, a cannon fired. Kurt pulled the knife free, and turned to meet Finn's eyes. His leg was drenched in blood and there was a nasty cut on his forehead and he was having trouble standing, but he smiled grimly. But Kurt's smile dissolved almost immediately into an expression of intense pain. Finn used his staff to struggle to his feet.

"Kurt?"

The other Careers were cheering. But why would they be cheering when Kurt had killed Krev? Finn looked down, and that was when he noticed the sword point protruding out of Kurt's abdomen. Shell yanked it out, and Kurt slumped to the ground.

"Kurt!" Finn stumbled forward. Shell watched him warily, wiping blood off her face as she struggled to regain her breath. Kurt must have gotten her at least a bit, although the knife must not have held the poison well. She hung back, watching as Finn crawled over to Kurt.

"We should finish them off," the District 1 boy began, but the District 2 girl put up an arm to stop him. Finn knew why – he wasn't going anywhere. He hated himself for being grateful for it, but he mouthed a _thank you_ at the girl. She nodded, just slightly, and Finn wondered if she had a brother, too.

"Hey," he said, sitting down ungracefully and taking Kurt's hand.

"Finn," Kurt said, his free hand clawing at Finn's shirt. He tugged, and Finn leaned in to hear Kurt whisper, "Take a handful of sand, throw it in her face, and when she's blinded, _run._ Do it now, before they decide to stop this mockery of respect."

"I can't run," Finn told him. "Krev took out my knee." His leg was throbbing so badly that even talking hurt it, which Finn didn't get because those muscles sure weren't connected. He put his free hand over his and Kurt's joined hands. "Just… I'm here, Kurt. Just hold on to me."

Kurt's hand twitched in his, and he looked like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Finn reached an arm around Kurt and pulled him up, holding him close. Kurt whimpered in pain, but his head dropped onto Finn's shoulder, and his breathing slowed.

The cannon fired.

For a long moment, Finn sat holding Kurt's body. He wanted to cry, but the tears just wouldn't come. Maybe because he knew exactly what would happen as soon as he stood up. Nine to one now, and a blown-out knee.

He laid Kurt down gently, and then took the knife and shoved it into his belt. He picked up his staff and hauled himself to his feet, looking around at the Careers. Shell was still standing nearby, her sword red and at the ready. The others were watching him, weapons out and expressions ranging from predatory bloodlust to grim determination. The District 2 girl did look sympathetic, but her hands tightened on her sword and she raised it.

"All right," Finn said. "Let's do this."

They rushed at him. Finn tried to fight- even landed a blow or two, but his staff was shattered in seconds. A sharp pain exploded in his side, and another in his thigh, and unbelievable agony in his bad shoulder. He fumbled for the knife, but he couldn't reach it. He looked up, and the blue sky flooded his vision. He kept his gaze fixed there until a mace struck him in the side of the head, and then he saw nothing more.


	10. The District

Finn's cannon sounded, and a sob wrenched out of Carole's throat. Otherwise the Hudson-Hummel apartment was silent, despite the number of people crowded in.

The Careers on the screen were regrouping. The District 4 girl, Shell, was hurt, and a District 4 boy was nursing a nasty bruise on his face. Others were looting the bodies, taking anything that might be of value. Carole was savagely glad that the boys had nothing on them- just Kurt's knife and his water bottle.

The Careers began to leave, and the hovercrafts came to pick up the bodies. Next to Carole, Burt was sitting as still as a statue, tears streaking down his face. Carole kept her eyes on the screen until Finn's body was gone, and then buried her face in her hands and cried.

Someone turned off the television. No one protested.

Carole's sobs were the only sound in the apartment, and no one knew what to say to break that awful silence.

Burt was the one who stood up. "We're doing this," he said, his voice ragged with pain. "We're doing this, and we're doing it tonight."

***

Ever since the day that they'd put Kurt in his arms, Burt had been afraid of losing him. He'd checked on him twice each night when he'd been an infant, terrified Kurt would somehow smother himself during the night. He'd been worried about playground equipment, the tenement stairs, the Peacekeepers who patrolled the street. That terrible winter when his wife had died, when Burt's stomach had been hollow and Kurt had cried from hunger, had twisted him into knots. The bullying at school, the death threats, the diseases that could sweep District 8, the thefts and killings over food… and then there were the mills and factories to poison lungs and take limbs and work people to death. Kurt's death was Burt's worst fear. And ever since he'd married Carole, Finn's death was second. Not only to lose that son, but to watch Carole experiencing that pain and being able to do nothing….

To have them both taken in the same moment, to watch them both be slaughtered and not be able to do a thing to stop it… that was the culmination of everything Burt had feared from the moment both boys were called for the Hunger Games.

Burt stood in the room that Kurt and Finn had shared. Kurt's bed was still neatly made, Finn's was still lumpy and haphazard. Their clothes were still in the dresser, Kurt's treasured little hoard of grooming products was still lined up on a shelf, and Finn's drumsticks lay on the window sill. Their winter jackets hung unused in the corner, and their schoolbags sat under them. The room looked like it was still waiting for Kurt and Finn to come in, bickering about their day and bringing it back to life.

"A dad should be able to protect his kid- his _kids_- from anything," he said quietly to the empty room. "I couldn't stop them from taking you. They would have shot you first, then me. Only thing that it would have done was make us all dead. I'm sorry about that- real sorry- but I guess there wasn't anything I could do.

"But now, me and Carole…" Burt sat down on Kurt's bed, running his hand over the blanket. "It's not some grief-mad thing. It's not because you're both gone. It's because you _shouldn't_ be gone, and the Capitol has got to see that. And showing them that is more important than anything else, and believe me, with how much I love Carole, that's saying a hell of a lot."

He rubbed his face. "I was real proud of you boys, you know," he said. "There in the arena. You both could have turned on each other, but you didn't. I would have understood if you had. I know you thought about it, I heard what you said. I don't care. It takes more guts to fight something like that than it does to do it, and you boys fought it. You both died with your souls intact, and that's about the only comfort I've got right now. So, thanks for that. Both of you. Me and Carole, we might not do so good with that bit, but I can't even care. Not anymore.

"I know your mom and your dad were waiting there for you, and you're with them now. I gotta believe that, or I'm gonna fall to pieces right here, before our job is done. And I know all four of you are waiting for us. We're going to do this thing, boys. We're going to get back at the Capitol for what they've taken from us. And then, when we're done… we're coming home. And we'll be a family, all of us, and they're never gonna take you from me again. I promise."

Burt touched Kurt's bed one last time, and then reached over and touched Finn's. Then he stood up, adjusted his hat and left the room. He didn't look back as he closed the door firmly behind him.

***

The night was hot and sticky. The air was humid and stagnant, without a trace of wind. They were crowded in a stinking alley that was strewn with garbage and waste, the flickering lights of television visible in the windows above them. The cotton mill Carole worked in was a block away.

It was a small group. Burt and Carole, Puck, Mercedes, Santana, and Will. The smaller the better, Burt had said, although there were a few others stationed along the route.

"You clear on the plan?" Burt asked Puck and Santana. "Give us fifteen minutes to get into position, and then start."

"Yeah, I'm clear," Puck said. "You rigged up the remote starters?"

"They're in the mill," Burt said. He looked at Mercedes. "And you?"

"I'll get the rally going, Mr. H," Mercedes said solemnly. "There's a lot of people ready for this, and when that mill goes up-"

"Right. So Puck and Santana, you lead them into the mill and get out the trap door. We'll slam the doors shut, set the remote starters, and with all that cotton, that place should go up like kindling. And when you see it, Mercedes, you get the signal to the others."

"What about me?" Will said.

"Go home," Burt ordered.

"Wait. What?"

"Go home, Schuester. A lot of people are going to get killed tonight." Burt's face was serious. "And when they do, someone's got to be there to make sure their kids are okay. Someone's got to be safe so those kids have someone to turn to. And someone's got to keep the rest of New Directions together, and keep the fight up if we're all gone. That's you."

"But I-"

"Will, please," Carole begged. "You're the only one who can do that. _Please._"

Will nodded slowly. "All right," he said. "But be careful. Please. Just…" he looked at Puck, Mercedes, and Santana. "Just be careful."

"We will be, Mr. Schue," Mercedes promised him.

"All right," Burt said, slapping his hands together, "let's do this."

***

The streets were eerily silent. Carole wondered if it was her imagination, or if they were always this quiet this time of night. The mills were closed at night, although the fence around the blocks where they stood was merely chain link and not electrified. A good pair of wire cutters and a Peacekeeper population absorbed in the Hunger Games made short work of that. Burt took a bolt cutter to the chain that held the big double gates shut, and they swung open, groaning on rusty hinges. Carole grabbed them before they could make too much noise.

The mill was the first one that they came to. The doors were locked, but Carole knew where the trap door let out, and they were able to sneak in that way. The huge machines stood idle, like sentries watching them creep through the rooms of the mill. They made it down to the front doors and unlocked them from inside, and then went out into the night to take their posts. According to the plan, Puck and Santana would lead the Peacekeepers down to the mill area and into the mill. Burt and Carole would slam and lock the doors, and Puck and Santana would escape through the trap door before Burt hit the remote starters that would start the fire in the carding room. With the shoddy construction, the old wood, and the cotton everywhere, the mill would go up in no time, and then hopefully the fire would be the beacon needed to set District 8 alight. Mercedes would serve as the rallying point and others who were in on this leading their blocks. That was how the plan was supposed to go.

And it went perfectly. Carole had no idea what Puck and Santana did to rile the Peacekeepers (and probably didn't want to know), but they came tearing down the road, a squad in tow. The squad followed them into the mill, and Burt and Carole slammed the doors behind them. Santana and Puck were fast, and in minutes they were out the trap door and Burt pressed the remote. The screams drifted out of the mill, anguished as thick black smoke began to rise.

"Let's get out of here," Puck said, grinning triumphantly.

Carole stood listening to the screams inside, unable to pull herself away. She remembered watching Finn kill that boy Raze, and the look of satisfaction on his face. She'd been appalled at the time, but right now all she could think was, _like mother, like son._

Good.

***

There was no riot. No uprising. No rebellion, glorious or bloody or otherwise. People feared the fire and they had too much to lose, and those that might have taken to the streets worried that all they would be doing was sacrificing their own lives. There was only a fire in the mill, eight dead Peacekeepers, and a very angry Capitol.

***

In the silence of the aftermath, with no revolution to fight in, Carole and Burt went back to their apartment. The flames sent flickering shadows against their walls, even this far away.

"We should have known," Carole said sadly, looking out the window. "It was too early."

"It's not," Burt said. "It's just a first step."

Carole nodded. They could tell themselves that, and only hope that it would be true. They wouldn't be around to see if it was or not.

"What do you think we should do now?" Burt asked Carole as they sat down at their table.

Carole pushed her hair off her forehead with her sooty hand. "They'll come looking for us."

"I know." Burt picked up a fork and toyed with it. "We have to step forward when they come looking. Otherwise they'll start shooting people that had nothing to do with it."

"Of course," Carole said calmly. They'd known that all along.

Burt looked up. "You think we can keep the kids protected?"

"We can try," Carole said.

"For all the good it did us with our own sons," Burt said, and his bitterness pierced Carole's heart. For a long moment, she couldn't speak.

Finally, she said, "They chose, at least. Puck and Mercedes and Santana. If they… if the Peacekeepers find them, they knew and they understood."

"Yeah."

"They're nearly adults anyway, Burt."

"I know." Burt sighed. "It doesn't make it any easier. They're kids."

"Who wanted to stand up for what they believed. We couldn't tell them no."

"You're right." Burt stood up and paced a little. "What do you want to do while we wait?"

Carole went over to the old radio and put in a music chip. It was a very old one, given to them on their wedding day, and a static-filled rendition of a slow song. Carole turned to Burt. "Just… let's dance."

"All right." He came forward and wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into his arms. He hadn't held her like this since that terrible day that the boys had been taken from them, and if nothing else Carole was glad to have this last dance just for that- just to be _together_ again.

"I love you, you know," Burt said as they swayed. "Maybe I haven't been able to show it much the past two weeks, but I do."

"I know," Carole said, tipping her chin up. "I love you, too."

She kissed him and he kissed her back, and they were still kissing when the Peacekeepers broke down the door.

***

"How long do you think it will take?" Mercedes asked Puck.

"I don't know," Puck said. "They're mostly idiots, until it comes to finding people. Then they're like dogs."

"Bloodhounds," Santana said derisively.

The three of them were huddled in the room New Directions used to practice in the school, a kerosene lamp between them.

"Maybe we should be home," Mercedes said. "So they don't take it out on our families."

"Or we should be here, so our families have no idea of what's going on and can't lie," Santana said. It was impossible to know which route the Capitol would take; the best they could do was hope.

They sat in the darkness, the tension stretching out over them. "It can't be much longer," Puck said, the waiting eroding his calm into frustration.

"We could run," Santana suggested.

"But where would we run to? We can't get out of the District."

"Right." Santana sighed. "Well, let's do _something_ to pass the time, or I'm gonna go crazy and kill you both myself."

Mercedes and Puck looked at each other and grinned. "Only one thing to do in this room," Mercedes said.

When the Peacekeepers found them at 2:23 in the morning, they were still singing.

***

The Games still raged on television, but in District 8, the square was full for another reason.

Will wasn't surprised that Burt and Carole had been caught. Truth be told, he was fairly certain they wanted to be. Burt's face was grim but unflinching as they led him out, Carole's was haughty and defiant. They regretted nothing.

They had Puck and Mercedes, too. Puck was smirking, like the joke was on the Peacekeepers. Mercedes was crying, but she kept her head high and she looked… regal, Will thought. He was proud of them.

No one knew what had happened to Santana. She had disappeared. Will wanted to believe she'd run and that she was somewhere outside District 8. He had the feeling that she wasn't, but no amount of questioning was going to reveal her whereabouts.

The Peacekeepers led their four prisoners onto the stage, and the mayor read the charges. Her eyes flashed with indignation, but she otherwise played her part. Next to Will, Rachel was crying and Mike was softly cursing. He watched each kid, determined to keep them quiet. For now. Just for now. After all, he'd made a promise.

The Peacekeepers forced their captives to their knees. Carole kept her chin up, Mercedes bowed her head. Puck threw the hands off and got down to his knees himself. But Burt looked straight out into the crowd and met Will's eyes. He didn't say anything, but Will could hear the last thing Burt had said to him.

_Someone's got to be there to make sure their kids are okay. Someone's got to be safe so those kids have someone to turn to. And someone's got to keep the rest of New Directions together, and keep the fight up if we're all gone. That's you._

He nodded, like Burt had spoken, and Burt nodded back. Then the guns rang out, and the four bodies fell to the stage, and it was over.

For now.

***

The girl looked like Santana. Sue tried to get a better glimpse of her, but the Peacekeepers were herding her off the train and into the Detention Center, and she was gone before Sue could get a second look. She shook her head. Ridiculous. There was absolutely no way Santana would be here.

"I wonder what's going on," Grace said as she, Sue, and Woof made their way into the Justice Building. It was not a place that any of them had ever entered before. Sue didn't like it. It was all cold marble and white stone, and while it looked imposing and would otherwise impress her, right now it looked… bloody. These were the people that held the Districts by the throat.

They were shown into an office, and Sue was startled to see President Snow sitting at the desk. She'd seen him on television and once or twice in person, but up close, he was even more menacing. And there weren't many people whom Sue would ever say that about.

"Woof. Grace. Sue." President Snow smiled. "Have a seat. Please." He gestured to the three chairs in front of his desk. "Well. What a Hunger Games we've been having so far, wouldn't you say?" None of them answered, but Snow didn't seem to care. "As exciting as this has been, there's been quite a bit _more_ excitement back home."

That caught Sue's attention. "What's been going on?"

"It seems that some people were dissatisfied with the results of the Hunger Games this year," President Snow said, sitting back and meeting Sue's eyes squarely. "They have been dealt with, but the unrest lingers in the District like the stench of garbage. It requires a steady, practiced hand to dispel it. _Three_ steady, practiced hands."

"What do you mean?" Grace asked.

"The Peacekeepers can ensure that the violence does not flare again," Snow said, picking up a crystal rose from his desk and toying with it. "However, it would be beneficial to us to have people working in the District to soothe the wounded feelings. Now, we're all _friends_ here. Let's talk frankly. I'm not going to pretend that the people in the Districts are in love with the Capitol. But our lives certainly go more smoothly when they pretend that they are. I need you three-" he looked at each of them in turn- "to essentially do damage control. Sure, we can send all the propaganda and reprisals that we want, and we will. But people from the District itself- _heroes_ from the District itself- will be far more effective."

"No," Sue said flatly.

"Not on your life," Woof said.

"Absolutely not," Grace added.

President Snow smiled a little at the crystal flower. "You know," he said, "the tributes from District 8 this year were so _touching_, especially the step-brothers. And it was their parents who were the cause of the trouble. I suppose that shouldn't be a shock, mind you. We do so cherish our families. Our nephews and nieces," he said, looking at Woof. "Our husbands and children," he added, looking at Grace. His eyes then locked with Sue's. "And our sisters. Think what your life would be without them. Think how you would feel if your actions resulted in their demise."

Sue's stomach turned over. Grace gave a little cry and Woof's shoulders slumped. "Have I made myself clear?" President Snow said.

No one answered. They didn't need to.

"Good. I'm so glad we had this talk. So go. Return to your quarters for the remainder of the Games, and when you get back to District 8, I expect great things of you."

The three of them left the Justice Building in silence. Justice Building. Sue spat on the steps.

"It's not like we have a choice," Grace said, quietly.

"It's not like we ever have," Woof agreed.

Sue didn't answer. She'd cursed Kurt for not betraying Finn, and now she understood exactly why he'd done it. Screw District 8- she wasn't letting anything happen to Jean. If she fought, nothing would get accomplished, she'd lose Jean, and the kids from District 8 would lose the only mentor that could help one of them win. If she went along with it, it wouldn't change much, but it would keep Jean safe.

There were things you had to do to protect the things you loved, and Sue Sylvester was going to do them.

For now.

***

The four Hudson-Hummels were all buried together. The Capitol took a sick sort of pleasure in bringing back the four dead tributes, and they had to do something with the other bodies anyway. Puck and Mercedes were buried with them as well, although their graves were unmarked. The tributes had been buried with the usual amount of ceremony, but the other burials had been done quietly as the District was required to attend an elaborate ceremony for the eight Peacekeepers killed in the fire, all of whom were hailed as heroes.

Will stood on the edge of the graveyard, looking at the six fresh graves. _Keep the fight up if we're all gone_, Burt had said. Will didn't have the first idea how to do that. Not without landing here in the graveyard himself, having accomplished nothing.

"Mr. Schuester?"

Will turned around to see the remainder of New Directions standing there, watching him. "Guys. What are you doing here?"

"We saw you weren't in the square," Rachel said. "We thought you might be here."

"I know," Will sighed. "But I shouldn't be. None of you should be."

"Maybe not," Quinn said. "But maybe we should. Maybe we should start thinking more about what we're told not to do."

"Maybe we should have done more the other night," Sam said.

"Guys, you would have gotten killed," Will said.

"Well, maybe not the other night," Rachel amended. "But maybe… maybe with better planning."

"A _lot_ of planning," Mike added. "Maybe even years of it.

Will looked at their young faces, stony and determined. _Keep up the fight_, Burt had said, but he didn't mean today or tomorrow. Plan for a future- maybe a future decades in coming- with people who could live long enough to see it through. Take their time, construct their plans, check and double check everything. Planning had never been Will's strong suit, and he thought that Burt could not have possible chosen a worse successor. But the faith in the kids' eyes made him nod.

"Come on. Let's pay our respects and then go back to the choir room. I think we've got a lot to talk about."


	11. Epilogue: The Victors

Sue sat in the sterile waiting room and glared at the television, trying to turn it off with her mind. It didn't work. An interviewer- a Caesar Flickerman wannabe, was doing a "man on the street" style story, polling Capitol residents about the ending of the Hunger Games.

"Oh, these Games were _amazing_," a breathless Capitol resident trilled into a microphone. "The Quarter Quell really was something special."

"And tell me, what was your favorite part?" the interviewer asked. The camera cut to answer after answer.

"The volcano was amazing. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time," a woman with blue hair and pink skin said.

"You can't beat the bloodbath on opening day," an older man said, patting his rounded stomach. "That first fight at the Cornucopia is always a winner."

"The final fight. I really thought the District 1 girl had it."

"The squirrels," a little girl said. "I liked the gold squirrels. And the birds with the pink beaks. They were pretty." Her mother who was holding her hand beamed proudly.

"And the players?" the interviewer said. "Who were you rooting for?"

"Can't ever go wrong with District 1. Usually, that is." The man chuckled. "Lost a good bit on these Games."

"The brothers from District 8," a woman sighed. "Oh, they just broke my heart!"

"I got their song on a music chip," a man said. "With that District 10 kid. Gorgeous voices."

"I've played it over a hundred times!"

Sue looked at the nurse who was doing paperwork at her station. "Turn it off," she snapped.

"You know I can't do that," the nurse said, not even looking up.

Sue sat back against the chair, arms crossed, and waited. The television continued to bleat obnoxiously.

"So what did you think of our victor?" the interviewer asked.

"Could have knocked me over with a feather." The portly man was back. "District 12? When was the last time District 12 won?"

"Was it fair, though?" a woman wondered. "What he did with the axe? It seemed awfully… squirrelly to me. Kind of like cheating."

"I'm looking forward to the closing ceremonies," a man with green skin and iridescent scales said. "His interview should be really interesting."

"It should," the man's companion agreed. "The tributes from the outermost Districts are always so _quaint._"

Sue threw a heavy crystal ashtray at the television, shattering the screen. A shower of sparks and broken glass rained down to the floor.

"Really, Ms. Sylvester," the nurse said mildly. "That wasn't necessary."

Sue was about to respond when the nurse's intercom buzzed, leaving her with a very relieved expression. "You can go in now," she told Sue.

"About time," Sue said, striding back. She found the right room and opened the door, not even bothering with a response.

The victor of the Fiftieth Hunger Games was lying in bed. He was a good looking, tall boy with wide shoulders and dark curly hair. He had thick white bandages over his otherwise bare abdomen, but the rest of his wounds had been healed by Capitol medicine.

"Well, well, well," Sue said, taking him in. "Haymitch Abernathy. You know who I am?"

"Of course," he said disdainfully. "You're Sue Sylvester."

"You got that right. So you're the new meat. Could have done without the curls."

"I don't see what concern of yours my hair would be," Haymitch said, staring her down with dark gray eyes. "What do you want?"

"Well, Haymill, I wanted to be the first to welcome you into the club," Sue said. "Because it's a rollicking good time being a victor, what with all the feasts and the parties and the sending the kids to their deaths and all."

Haymitch's eyes narrowed. "You aren't dumb enough to think any of that is news to me, are you?"

Sue raised her eyebrows, impressed in spite of herself. "Maybe you are smarter than I give you credit for," she said. "I might just have to reevaluate my position on curly hair. No, not yet. You're still probably a moron."

"I just won the Games," Haymitch pointed out.

"So you did. Pretty smooth move there with the shield around the arena. I've gotta say, I was impressed. The Capitol isn't, though."

Haymitch shrugged. "Why not?"

"You're not supposed to figure things out like that. You made them look foolish. Which, I've got to say, is a point in your favor in my book. All I know is that all the recap footage is of anything but your last fight." It was obvious from the look on Haymitch's face that he didn't care. "You did beat my boys, that's for sure."

"Your boys," Haymitch echoed. "The brothers."

"Yeah. The brothers."

"If you're here to give me some load of guilt-" Haymitch began, but Sue cut him off.

"Guilt? Why should I give you guilt? You didn't kill my boys in the Games. I don't think you even saw them. No, my boys lost because they couldn't do what they had to do in order to survive in the Games. Some would say that's a moral victory or something. What would you say?"

"I'd say that's a load of crap," Haymitch said. "It's not like they wanted to be there. You do what you've got to do to survive."

"Exactly." Sue snapped her fingers and pointed at him, smiling. "Exactly. What do you know- I am wrong. You, Strawmitch, are a smart one. _The_ smart one."

"So what did you come in here for?"

"I had to know."

_Had to know I wasn't the only one. Had to look at your face and tell myself that someone else has done these things too and lived with it. That I'm not the only one who would do it the same if I had to, but better. Faster. More deadly._ All words that Sue could have said, and all words that went unspoken. Instead, she smiled and winked at the boy lying in the bed.

"I had to know what the competition was like for next year. And now I do. See you next year at the Games, Haymaker." She made a clicking noise at him, pointed, and then left the room, a spring in her step.

He had no remorse. This wouldn't be another Wes, tormented by the ghosts of what he'd been forced to do in the arena and devastated by the loss of his first tribute. But he wasn't another Career, either, like Onyx and Shine, who gloried in their violence. He knew what he had done. He just chose to live with it. He was like her, facing, accepting, understanding. She could respect that. A mentor either got hard or got broken, seeing their tributes in the Games. Sue had always been the former, and after talking to him, she was pretty sure that Haymitch Abernathy would be, too.


End file.
